MY   TEN   YEARS' 
IMPRISONMENT. 


BY 

SILVIO  PELLICO. 


TRANSLATED    FROM    THE   ITALIAN 
BY 

THOMAS  EOSCOE. 


NEW  YORK  : 

JOHN  B.  ALDEN,  PUBLISHER 

1889. 


INTRODUCTION. 


SILYIO  PELLICO  was  born  at  Saluzzo,  in  North  Italy,  in  the 
year  of  the  fall  of  the  Bastille,  1789.  His  health  as  a 
child  was  feeble,  his  temper  gentle,  and  he  had  the 
instincts  of  a  poet.  Before  he  was  ten  years  old  he  had 
written  a  tragedy  on  a  theme  taken  from  Macpherson's 
Ossian.  His  chief  delight  as  a  boy  was  in  acting  plays 
with  other  children,  and  he  acquired  from  his  father  a 
strong  interest  in  the  patriotic  movements  of  the  time.  He 
fastened  upon  French  literature  during  a  stay  of  some 
years  at  Lyons  with  a  relation  of  his  mother's.  Ugo 
Foscolo's  Sep.oleri  revived  his  patriotism,  and  in  1810,  at  the 
age  of  twenty-one,  he  returned  to  Italy.  He  taught  French 
in  the  Soldiers'  Orphans'  School  at  Milan.  At  Milan  he  was 
admitted  to  the  friendship  of  Vincenzo  Monti,  a  poet  then 
touching  his  sixtieth  year,  and  of  the  younger  Ugo 
Foscolo,  by  whose  writings  he  had  been  powerfully  stirred, 
and  to  whom  he  became  closely  bound.  Silvio  Pellico 
wrote  in  classical  form  a  tragedy,  Laodicea,  and  then, 
following  the  national  or  romantic  school,  for  a  famous 
actress  of  that  time,  another  tragedy,  Francesca  di  Himini, 
which  was  received  with  great  applause. 

After  the  dissolution  of  the  kingdom  of  Italy,  in  April 
1814,  Pellico  became  tutor  to  the  two  children  of  the  Count 
Porro  Lambertenghi,  at  whose  table  he  met  writers  of 
mark,  from  many  countries ;  Byron  (whose  Manfred  he 
translated),  Madame  de  Stael,  Schlegel,  Manzoni,  and  others. 
In  1819  Silvio  Pellico  began  publishing  II  Conciliators, 
a  journal  purely  literary,  that  was  to  look  through  literature 


4  INTRODUCTION. 

to  tho  life  that  it  expresses,  and  so  help  towards  the  better 
future  of  his  country.  But  the  merciless  excisions  of 
inoffensive  passages  by  the  Austrian  censorship  destroyed 
the  journal  in  a  year. 

A  secret  political  association  had  been  formed  in  Italy 
of  men  of  all  ranks  who  called  themselves  the  Carbonari 
(charcoal  burners),  and  who  sought  the  reform  of 
government  in  Italy.  In  1814  they  had  planned  a  re- 
volution in  Naples,  but  there  was  no  action  until  1820. 
After  successful  pressure  on  the  King  of  the  two  Sicilies, 
the  forces  of  the  Carbonari  under  General  Pepe  entered" 
Naples  on  the  ninth  of  July,  1820,  and  King  Ferdinand  I. 
swore  on  the  13th-  of  July  to  observe  the  constitution 
which  the  Carbonari  had  proclaimed  at  Nola  and  elsewhere 
during  the  preceding  month.  On  the  twenty-fifth  of 
August,  the  Austrian  government  decreed  death  to  every 
member  of  a  secret  society,  and  carcere  duro  e  duri.i»inio, 
severest  pains  of  imprisonment,  to  all  who  had  neglected 
to  oppose  the  progress  of  Carbonarism.  Many  seizures 
were  made,  and  on  the  13th  of  October  the  gentle  editor 
of  tho  Conciliutore,  Silvio  Pellico,  was  arrested  as  a  friend 
of  the  Carbonari,  and  taken  to  the  prison  of  Santa  Mar- 
gherita  in  Milan. 

In  the  same  month  of  October,  the  Emperors  of  Aiistria 
and  Russia,  and  the  Prince  of  Prussia  met  at  Troppau  to 
concert  measures  for  crushing  the  Carbonari. 

In  January,  1821,  they  met  Ferdinand  I.  at  Laybach  and 
then  took  arms  against  Naples.  Naples  capitulated  on  the 
2(Hli  of  March,  and  on  the  24th  of  March,  1821,  its  Eevolu- 
tionary  council  was  closed.  A  decree  of  April  10th  con- 
demned to  death  all  persons  who  attended  meetings  of  the 
Carbonari,  and  the  result  was  a  great  accession  to  the 
strength  of  this  secret  society,  which  spread  its  branches 
over  Germany  and  France. 

On  the  19th  of  February,  1821,  Silvio  Pellico  was  trans- 


INTRODUCTION.  5 

ferred  to  imprisonment  under  the  leads,  on  the  isle  of  San 
Michele,  Venice.  There  he  wrote  two  plays,  and  some  poems. 
On  the  21st  of  February,  1822,  he  and  his  friend  Maroncelli 
were  condemned  to  death ;  but,  their  sentence  being  com- 
muted to  twenty  years  for  Maroncelli,  and  fifteen  years  for 
Pellico,  of  carcere  duro,  they  entered  their  underground 
prisons  at  Spielberg  on  the  10th  of  April,  1822.  The 
government  refused  to  transmit  Pellico's  tragedies  to  his 
family,  lest,  though  harmless  in  themselves,  the  acting  of 
them  should  bring  good- will  to  a  state  prisoner.  At  Spiel- 
berg he  composed  a  third  tragedy,  Leoniero  da  Dordona, 
though  deprived  of  books,  paper,  and  pens,  and  preserved  it 
in  his  memory.  In  182s,  a  rumour  of  Pellico's  death  in 
prison  caused  great  excitement  throughout  Italy.  On  the 
17th  of  September,  1830,  he  was  released,  by  the  amnesty 
of  that  year,  and,  avoiding  politics  thenceforth,  devoted  him- 
self to  religion.  The  Marchesa  Baroli,  at  Turin,  provided 
for  his  maintenance,  by  engaging  him  as  her  secretary  and 
librarian.  With  health  made  weaker  by  his  sufferings, 
Silvio  Pellico  lived  on  to  the  age  of  sixty- five,  much 
honoured  by  his  countrymen.  Gioberti  dedicated  a  book  to 
him  as  "  The  first  of  Italian  Patriots."  He  died  at  Turin 
on  the  1st  of  February,  18u4. 

Silvio  Pellico's  account  of  his  imprisonment,  Le  Mie 
Priffioni,  was  first  published  in  Paris  in  1833.  It  has  been 
translated  into  many  languages,  and  is  the  work  by  which 
he  will  retain  his  place  in  European  literature.  His  other 
plays,  besides  the  two  first  named,  were  Etifemia  di  Messina  ; 
Iginia  di  Asti ;  Leoniero  da  Dordona,  already  named  as  having 
been  thought  out  at  Spielberg ;  his  Gismonda  ;  I'Erodiade  ; 
Ester  d'Enyaddi ;  Corradino ;  and  a  play  upon  Sir  Thomas 
More.  He  wrote  also  poems,  Cantiche,  of  which  the  best  are 
Ellgi  e  Valfrido  and  Egild  ;  and,  in  his  last  years,  a  religious 
manual  on  the  Duties  of  Men. 

H.  M. 


AUTHOK'S  PBEFACE. 


HAVF,  I  penned  these  memorials,  let  me  ask  myself,  from 
any  paltry  vanity,  or  desire  to  talk  about  that  self  P  I  hope 
this  is  not  the  case,  and  forasmuch  as  one  may  he  able  to 
judge  in  one's  own  cause,  I  think  I  was  actuated  by  better 
views.  These,  briefly,  were  to  afford  consolation  to  some 
unfortunate  being,  situated  like  myself,  by  explaining  the 
evils  to  which  I  was  exposed,  and  those  sources  of  relief 
which  I  found  were  accessible,  even  when  labouring  under 
the  heaviest  misfortune  ;  to  bear  witness,  moreover,  that 
in  the  midst  of  my  acute  and  protracted  torments,  I  never 
found  humanity,  in  the  humaa  instruments  around  me,  so 
hopelessly  wicked,  so  unworthy  of  consideration,  or  so 
barren  of  noble  minds  in  lowly  station,  as  it  is  customary  to 
represent  it ;  to  engage,  if  possible,  all  the  generous  and 
good-hearted  to  love  and  esteem  each  other,  to  become  in- 
capable of  hating  any  one;  to  feel  irreconcilable  hatred 
only  towards  low,  base  falsehood;  cowardice,  perfidy,  and 
every  kind  of  moral  degradation.  It  is  my  object  to  impress 
on  all  that  well-known  but  too  often  forgotten  truth, 
namely,  that  both  religion  and  philosophy  require  calmness 
of  judgment  combined  with  energy  of  will,  and  that  with- 
out such  a  union,  there  can  be  no  real  justice,  no 
dignity  of  character,  and  no  sound  principles  of  human  ac- 
tion. 


MY 

TEN  YEARS'  IMPRISONMENT. 


CHAPTER  I. 

ON  Friday,  the  15th  of  October,  1820,  I  waa  arrested  at 
Milan,  and  conveyed  to  the  prison  of  Santa  Margherita. 
The  hour  was  three  in  the  afternoon.  I  underwent  a  long 
examination,  which  occupied  the  whole  of  that  and  several 
subsequent  days ;  but  of  this  I  shall  say  nothing.  Like 
some  unfortunate  lover,  harshly  dealt  with  by  her  he 
adored,  yet  resolved  to  bear  it  with  dignified  silence,  I 
leave  la  Politica.  such  as  SHE  is,  and  proceed  to  something  else. 

At  nine  in  the  evening  of  that  same  unlucky  Friday,  the 
actuary  consigned  me  to  the  jailer,  who  conducted  me  to 
my  appointed  residence.  He  there  politely  requested  me  to 
give  up  my  watch,  my  money,  and  everything  in  my 
pockets,  which  were  to  be  restored  to  me  in  due  time ;  lay- 
ing which  he  respectfully  bade  me  good-night. 

"  Stop,  my  dear  sir,"  I  observed,  "  I  have  not  yet  dined  ;. 
let  me  have  something  to  eat." 

"  Directly ;  the  inn  is  close  by,  and  you  will  find  the> 
wine  good,  sir." 

"  Wine  I  do  not  drink." 

At  this  announcement  Signer  Angiolino  gave  me  a  look 
of  unfeigned  surprise ;  he  imagined  that  I  was  jesting. 
"  Masters  of  prisons,"  he  rejoined,  "  who  keep  shop,  have  * 
natural  horror  of  an  abstemious  captive." 

"  That  may  be ;  I  don't  drink  it." 


9  MY  TEN  TEAKS'  IMPRISONMENT. 

"  I  am  sorry  for  you,  sir ;  you  will  feel  solitude  twice  as 
heavily." 

But  perceiving  that  I  was  firm,  he  took  his  leave ;  and 
in  half  an  hour  I  had  something  to  eat.  I  took  a  mouth- 
iful,  swallowed  a  glass  of  water,  and  found  myself  alone. 
My  chamber  was  on  the  ground  floor,  and  overlooked  the 
•court-yard.  Dungeons  here,  dungeons  there,  to  the  right, 
to  the  left,  above,  below,  and  opposite,  everywhere  met  my 
eye.  I  leaned  against  the  window,  listened  to  the  passing 
and  repassing  of  the  jailers,  and  the  wild  song  of  a  number 
of  the  unhappy  inmates.  A  century  ago,  I  reflected,  and 
this  was  a  monastery ;  little  then  thought  the  pious,  penitent 
recluses  that  their  cells  would  now  re-echo  only  to  the  sounds 
of  blasphemy  and  licentious  song,  instead  of  holy  hymn 
and  lamentation  from  woman's  lips ;  that  it  would  become 
a  dwelling  for  the  wicked  of  every  class — the  most  part 
•destined  to  perpetual  labour  or  to  the  gallows.  And  in 
one  century  to  come,  what  living  being  \vill  be  found  in 
the  secells  ?  Oh,  mighty  Time !  unceasing  mutability  of 
things !  Can  he  who  rightly  views  your  power  have 
reason  for  regret  or  despair  when  Fortune  withdraws  her 
smile,  when  he  is  made  captive,  or  the  scaffold  presents 
itself  to  his  eye  ?  yesterday  I  thought  myself  one  of  the 
happiest  of  men;  to-day  every  pleasure,  the  least  flower 
that  strewed  my  path,  has  disappeared.  Liberty,  social 
converse,  the  face  of  my  fellow-man,  nay,  hope  itself  hath 
fled.  I  feel  it  would  be  folly  to  flatter  myself ;  I  shall  not 
.go  hence,  except  to  be  thrown  into  still  more  horrible  recep- 
tacles of  sorrow ;  perhaps,  bound,  into  the  hands  of  the 
.executioner.  Well,  well,  the  day  after  my  death  it  will  be 
.all  one  as  if  I  had  yielded  my  spirit  in  a  palace,  and 
been  conveyed  to  the  tomb,  accompanied  with  all  the 
pageantry  of  empty  honours. 

It  was  thus,  by  reflecting  on  the  sweeping  speed  of  time, 
that  I  bore  up  against  passing  misfortune.  Alas,  this  did 


MY  TEN  YEARS'  IMPRISONMENT.  9 

not  prevent  the  forms  of  my  father,  my  mother,  two 
brothers,  two  sisters,  and  one  other  f;unily  I  had  learned  to 
love  as  if  it  were  my  own,  from  all  whom  I  was,  doubtless, 
for  ever  cut  off,  from  crossing  my  mind,  and  rendering  all 
my  philosophical  reasoning  of  no  avail.  I  was  unable  to 
resist  the  thought,  and  I  wept  even  as  a  child. 


CHAPTER  II. 

THKEE  months  previous  to  this  time  I  had  gone  to  Turin, 
where,  after  several  years  of  separation,  I  saw  my  parents, 
one  of  my  brothers,  and  two  sisters.  We  had  always  been 
an  attached  family ;  no  son  had  ever  been  more  deeply  in- 
debted  to  a  father  and  a  mother  than  I ;  I  remember  I  was 
affected  at  beholding  a  greater  alteration  in  their  looks,  the 
progress  of  age,  than  I  had  expected.  I  indulged  a  secret 
wish  to  part  from  them  no  more,  and  soothe  the  pillow  of 
departing  age  by  the  grateful  cares  of  a  beloved  son.  How 
it  vexed  me,  too,  I  remember,  during  the  few  brief  days  I 
passed  with  them,  to  be  compelled  by  other  duties  to  spend 
so  much  of  the  day  from  home,  and  the  society  of  those  I 
had  such  reason  to  love  and  to  revere ;  yes,  and  I  remember 
now  what  my  mother  said  one  day,  with  an  expression  of 
sorrow,  as  I  went  out — "  Ah  !  our  Silvio  has  not  come  to 
Turin  to  see  us ! "  The  morning  of  my  departure  for 
Milan  was  a  truly  painful  one.  My  poor  father  accom- 
panied me  about  a  mile  on  my.  way ;  and,  on  leaving  me,  I 
more  than  once  turned  to  look  at  him,  and,  weeping,  kissed 
the  ring  my  mother  had  just  given  me;  nor  did  I  ever 
before  quit  my  family  with  a  feeling  of  such  painful  pre- 
sentiment. I  am  not  superstitious ;  but  I  was  astonished  at 
my  own  weakness,  and  I  more  than  once  exclaimed  in  a 
tone  of  terror,  "  Good  God !  whence  comes  this  strange 
anxiety  and  alarm  ?  "  and,  with  a  sort  of  inward  vision,  my 
mind  seemed  to  behold  the  approach  of  some  great  .calamity. 


10  MY   TEN  YEARS'   IMPRISONMENT. 

Even  yet  in  prison  I  retain  the  impression  of  that  sudden 
dread  and  parting  anguish,  and  can  recall  each  word  and 
every  look  of  my  distressed  parents.  The  tender  reproach 
of  my  mother,  "  Ah !  Silvio  has  not  come  to  Turin  to  see 
us ! "  seemed  to  hang  like  a  weight  upon  my  soul.  I 
regretted  a  thousand  instances  in  which  I  might  have 
shown  myself  more  grateful  and  agreeable  to  them ;  I  did 
not  even  tell  them  how  much  I  loved  ;  all  that  I  owed  to 
them.  I  was  never  to  see  them  more,  and  yet  I  turned  my 
eyes  with  so  much  like  indifference  from  their  dear  and 
venerable  features !  Why,  why  was  I  so  chary  of 
giving  expression  to  what  I  felt  (would  they  could  have 
read  it  in  my  looks),  to  all  my  gratitude  and  love  ?  In 
utter  solitude,  thoughts  like  these  pierced  me  to  the  soul. 

I  rose,  shut  the  window,  and  sat  some  hours,  in  the 
idea  that  it  would  he  in  vain  to  seek  repose.  At  length  I 
threw  myself  on  my  pallet,  and  excessive  weariness  brought 
me  sleep.  

CHAPTER  HI. 

To  awake  the  first  night  in  a  prison  is  a  horrible  thing.  IB 
it  possible,  I  murmured,  trying  to  collect  my  thoughts,  is  it 
possible  I  am  here  ?  Is  not  all  that  passed  a  dream  ?  Did 
they  really  seize  me  yesterday  ?  Was  it  I  whom  they  ex- 
amined from  morning  till  night,  who  am  doomed  to  the 
same  process  day  after  day,  and  who  wept  so  bitterly  last 
night  when  I  thought  of  my  dear  parents  ?  Slumber,  the 
unbroken  silence,  and  rest  had,  in  restoring  my  mental 
powers,  added  incalculably  to  the  capability  of  reflecting, 
and,  consequently,  of  grief.  There  was  nothing  to  distract 
my  attention ;  my  fancy  grew  busy  with  absent  forms,  and 
pictured  to  my  eye  the  pain  and  terror  of  my  father  and 
mother,  and  of  all  dear  to  me,  on  first  hearing  the  tidings 
of  my  arrest. 

At  this  moment,  said  I,  they  are  sleeping  in  peace  ;  or 


MY  TEN  YEARS'  IMPRISONMENT.  11 

perhaps,  anxiety  for  me  may  keep  them  watching,  yet  little 
anticipating  the  fate  to  which  I  am  here  consigned.  Happy 
for  them,  were  it  the  will  of  God,  that  they  should  cease  to 
exist  ere  they  hear  of  this  horrible  misfortune.  Who  will 
give  them  strength  to  bear  it  ?  Some  inward  voice  seemed 
to  whisper  me,  He  whom  the  afflicted  look  up  to,  love  and 
acknowledge  in  their  hearts  ;  who  enabled  a  mother  to  fol- 
low her  son  to  the  mount  of  Golgotha,  and  to  stand  under 
His  cross.  He,  the  friend  of  the  unhappy,  the  friend  of 
man. 

Strange  this  should  be  the  first  time  I  truly  felt  the  power 
of  religion  in  my  heart :  and  to  filial  love  did  I  owe  this 
consolation.  Though  not  ill-disposed,  I  had  hitherto  been 
little  impressed  with  its  truth,  and  had  not  well  adhered  to 
it.  All  common-place  objections  I  estimated  at  their  just 
value,  yet  there  were  many  doubts  and  sophisms  which  had 
shaken  my  faith.  It  was  long,  indeed,  since  they  had 
ceased  to  trouble  my  belief  in  the  existence  of  the  Deity  ; 
and  persuaded  of  this,  it  followed  necessarily,  as  part  of  His 
eternal  justice,  that  there  must  be  another  life  for  man  who 
suffers  so  unjustly  here.  Hence,  I  argued,  the  sovereign 
reason  in  man  for  aspiring  to  the  possession  of  that  second 
life  ;  and  hence,  too,  a  worship  founded  on  the  Iveo 
of  God,  and  of  his  neighbour,  and  an  unceasing  im- 
pulse to  dignify  his  nature  by  generous  sacrifices.  I 
had  already  made  myself  familiar  with  this  doctrine, 
and  I  now  repeated,  "  And  .what  else  is  Christianity 
but  this  constant  ambition  to  elevate  and  dignify  our 
nature?"  and  I  was  astonished,  when  I  reflected  how  pure, 
how  philosophical,  and  how  invulnerable  the  essence  of 
Christianity  manifested  itself,  that  there  could  come  an 
epoch  when  philosophy  dared  to  assert,  "  From  this  time 
forth  I  will  stand  instead  of  a  religion  like  this."  And  in 
what  manner — by  inculcating  vice  ?  Certainly  not.  By 
teaching  virtue  ?  Why  that  will  be  to  teach  us  to  love  God 


12  MY  TEN  YEARS'  IMPRISONMENT. 

and  our  neighbour ;  and  that  is  precisely  what  Christianity 
has  already  done,  on  far  higher  and  purer  motives.  Yet, 
notwithstanding  such  had,  for  years,  been  my  opinion,  I 
had  failed  to  draw  the  conclusion,  Then  be  a  Christian ! 
No  longer  let  corruption  and  abuses,  the  work  of  man,  deter 
you;  no  longer  make  stumbling-blocks  of  little  points  of 
doctrine,  since  the  principal  point,  made  thus  irresistibly 
clear,  is  to  love  God  and  your  neighbour. 

In  prison  I  finally  determined  to  admit  this  conclusion, 
and  I  admitted  it.  The  fear,  indeed,  of  appearing  to  others 
more  religious  than  I  had  before  been,  and  to  yield  more  to 
misfortune  than  to  conviction,  made  me  sometimes  hesitate  ; 
but  feeling  that  I  had  done  no  wrong,  I  felt  no  debasement, 
and  cared  nothing  to  encounter  the  possible  reproaches  I 
had  not  deserved,  resolving  henceforward  to  declare  myself 
openly  a  Christian.  

CHAPTER  IV. 

I  ADHERED  firmly  to  this  resolution  as  time  advanced ;  but 
the  consideration  of  it  was  begun  the  first  night  of  my  cap- 
tivity. Towards  morning  the  excess  of  my  grief  had  grown 
calmer,  and  I  was  even  astonished  at  the  change.  On  re- 
calling the  idea  of  my  parents  and  others  whom  I  loved,  I 
ceased  to  despair  of  their  strength  of  mind,  and  the  recollec- 
tion of  those  virtues  which  I  knew  they  had  long  possessed 
gave  me  real  consolation.  Why  had  I  before  felt  such 
great  dismay  on  thinking  of  them,  and  now  so  much  confid- 
ence in  their  strength  of  mind  f  Was  this  happy  change 
miraculous,  or  the  natural  effect  of  my  renewed  belief  in 
God  ?  What  avails  the  distinction,  while  the  genuine  sub- 
lime benefits  of  religion  remain  the  same. 

At  midnight  two  secondinl  (the  under  jailers  are  so  termed) 
had  paid  me  a  visit,  and  found  me  in  a  very  ill  mood ;  in  the 
morning  they  returned,  and  were  surprised  to  see  me  BO 
calm,  and  even  cheerful. 


MY  TEN  TEARS'  IMPRISONMENT.  13 

"  Last  night,  sir,  you  had  the  face  of  a  basilisk,"  said 
Tirola ;  "  now  you  are  quite  another  thing ;  I  rejoice  at  it, 
if,  indeed,  it  he  a  sign,  forgive  me  the  expression,  that  you 
are  not  a  scoundrel.  Your  scoundrels  (for  I  am  an  old  hand 
at  the  trade,  and  my  observations  are  worth  something)  are 
always  more  enraged  the  second  day  after  their  arrest  than 
the  first.  Do  you  want  some  snuff  ?  " 

"  I  do  not  take  it,  but  will  not  refuse  your  offer.  If  I 
have  not  a  gorgon-face  this  morning,  it  must  surely  be  a 
proof  of  my  utter  insensibility,  or  easy  belief  of  soon  regain- 
ing my  freedom." 

"  I  should  doubt  that,  even  though  you  were  not  in  dur- 
ance for  state  matters.  At  this  time  of  day  they  are  not  so 
easily  got  over  as  you  might  think  ;  you  are  not  so  raw  as 
to  imagine  such  a  thing.  Pardon  me,  but  you  will  know 
more  by  and  by." 

"  Tell  me,  how  come  you  to  have  so  pleaeant  a  look,  living 
only,  as  you  do,  among  the  unfortunate  ?  " 

"  Why,  sir,  you  will  attribute  it  to  indifference  to  others' 
Bufferings ;  of  a  truth,  I  know  not  how  it  is  ;  yet,  I  assure 
you,  it  often  gives  me  pain  to  see  the  prisoners  weep. 
Truly,  I  sometimes  pretend  to  be  merry  to  bring  a  smile 
upon  their  faces." 

"  A  thought  has  just  struck  me,  my  friend,  which  I  never 
had  before  ;  it  is,  that  a  jailer  may  be  made  of  very  con- 
genial clay." 

"  Well,  the  trade  has  nothing  to  do  with  that,  sir.  Be- 
yond that  huge  vault  you  see  there,  without  the'court-yard, 
is  another  court,  and  other  prisons,  all  prepared  for  women. 
They  are,  sir,  women  of  a  certain  class ;  yet  are  there  some 
angels  among  them,  as  to  a  good  heart.  And  if  you  were 
in  my  place,  sir —  " 

"IP"  and  I  laughed  out  heartily. 

Tirola  was  quite  disconcerted,  and  said  no  more.  Per- 
haps he  meant  to  imply  that  had  I  been  a  secondino,  it  would 


14  MT  TEN  YEARS'  IMPRISONMENT. 

have  been  difficult  not  to  become  attached  to  some  one  or 
other  of  these  unfortunates. 

He  now  inquired  what  I  wished  to  take  for  breakfast,  left 
me,  and  soon  returned  with  my  coffee.  I  looked  hard  at 
him,  with  a  sort  of  malicious  smile,  as  much  as  to  say, 
"  Would  you  carry  me  a  bit  of  a  note  to  an  unhappy  friend 
— to  my  friend  Piero?  "  *  lit;  understood  it,  and  answered 
with  another  :  "  No  sir  ;  and  if  you  do  not  take  heed  how 
you  ask  any  of  my  comrades,  they  will  betray  you." 

Whether  or  not  we  understood  each  other,  it  is  certain  I 
was  ten  times  upon  the  point  of  asking  him  for  a  sheet  of 
paper,  &c.  ;  but  there  was  a  something  in  his  eye  which 
seemed  to  warn  me  not  to  confide  in  any  one  about  me,  and 
still  less  to  others  than  himself. 


CHAPTER  V. 

HAD  Tirola,  with  his  expression  of  good-nature,  possessed  a 
less  roguish  look,  had  there  been  something  a  little  more 
dignified  in  his  aspect,  I  should  have  tried  to  make  him  my 
ambassador ;  for  perhaps  a  brief  communication,  if  in  time, 
might  prevent  my  friend  committing  some  fatal  error,  per- 
haps save  him,  poor  fellow;  besides  several  others,  including 
myself :  and  too  much  was  already  known.  Patience !  it 
was  fated  to  be  thus. 

I  was  here  recalled  to  be  examined  anew.  The  process 
continued  through  the  day, and  was  again  and  again  repeated, 
allowing  me  only  a  brief  interval  during  dinner.  While  this 
lasted,  the  time  seemed  to  pass  rapidly  ;  the  excitement  of 
mind  produced  by  the  endless  weiies  ot  questions  put  to  me, 
and  by  going  over  them  at  dinner  and  at  night,  digesting 

•  Piero  Mnroncelli  da  Forli,  an  excellent  ]><»•<.  :m<l  most  nmi-ible 
man,  who  bad  also  been  imcrisoued  from  jiolitieal  motives. 
author  speaks  of  him  at  considerable  li-ntfih,  as  the  companion  o£ 
his  suffering's,  in  various  parts  of  his  work. 


MY  TEN  YEARS'  IMPRISONMENT.  15» 

all  that  had  been  asked  and  replied  to,  reflecting  on  what- 
was  likely  to  come,  kept  me  in  a  state  of  incessant  activity. 

At  the  end  of  the  first  week  I  had  to  endure  a  most  vexa- 
tious affair.  My  poor  friend  Piero,  eager  as  myself  to  have 
some  communication,  sent  me  a  note,  not  by  one  of  the 
jailers,  but  by  an  unfortunate  prisoner  who  assisted  them. 
He  was  an  old  man  from  sixty  to  seventy,  and  condemned 
to  I  know  not  how  lon<^-  a  period  of  captivity.  With  a  pin 
I  had  by  me  I  pricked  my  finger,  and  scrawled  with  my 
blood  a  few  lines  in  reply,  which  I  committed  to  the  same 
messenger.  He  was  unluckily  suspected,  caught  with  the 
note  upon  him,  and  from  the  horrible  cries  that  were  soon 
heard,  I  conjectured  that  he  was  severely  bastinadoed.  At 
all  events  I  never  saw  him  more. 

On  my  next  examination  I  was  greatly  irritated  to  see  my 
note  presented  to  me  (luckily  containing  nothing  but  a 
simple  salutation),  traced  in  my  blood.  I  was  asked  how  I 
had  contrived  to  draw  the  blood ;  was  next  deprived  of  my 
pin,  and  a  great  laugh  was  raised  at  the  idea  and  detection 
of  the  attempt.  Ah,  I  did  not  laugh,  for  the  image  of  the 
poor  old  messenger  rose  before  my  eyes.  I  would  gladly 
have  undergone  any  punishment  to  spare  the  old  man.  I 
could  not  repress  my  tears  when  those  piercing  cries  fell 
upon  my  ear.  Vainly  did  I  inquire  of  the  jailers  respecting 
bus  fate.  They  shook  their  heads,  observing,  "  He  has  paid 
dearly  for  it,  he  will  never  do  such  like  tilings  again  ;  he 
has  a  little  more  rest  now."  Nor  would  they  speak  more 
fully.  Most  probably  they  spoke  thus  on  account  of  his- 
having  died  under,  or  in  consequence  of,  the  punishment  he- 
had  suffered ;  yet  one  day  I  thought  I  caught  a  glimpse  of 
him  at  the  further  end  of  the  court-yard,  carrying  a  bundle' 
of  wood  on  his  shoulders.  I  felt  a  beating  of  the  heart  as  if 
I  had  suddenly  recognised  a  brother. 


16  MY  TEN  YEARS'  IMPRISONMENT. 

CHAPTER    VI. 

WHEN  I  ceased  to  be  persecuted  with  examinations,  and 
had  no  longer  anything  to  till  up  my  time,  I  felt  bitterly 
the  increasing  weight  of  solitude.  I  had  permission  to  re- 
tain a  bible,  and  my  Dante ;  the  governor  also  placed  his 
library  at  my  disposal,  consisting  of  some  romances  of 
Scuderi,  Piazzi,  and  worse  books  still ;  but  my  mind  was  too 
deeply  agitated  to  apply  to  any  kind  of  reading  whatever. 
Every  day,  indeed,  I  committed  a  canto  of  Dante  to  memory, 
an  exercise  so  merely  mechanical,  that  I  thought  more  of 
my  own  affairs  than  the  lines  during  their  acquisition.  The 
same  sort  of  abstraction  attended  my  perusal  of  other  things, 
except,  occasionally,  a  few  passages  of  scripture.  I  had 
always  felt  attached  to  this  divine  production,  even  when  I 
had  not  believed  myself  one  of  its  avowed  followers.  I  now 
studied  it  with  far  greater  respect  than  before ;  yet  my  mind 
was  often  almost  involuntarily  bent  upon  other  matters; 
and  I  knew  not  what  1  read.  By  degrees  I  surmounted 
this  difficulty,  and  was  able  to  reflect  upon  its  great  truths 
with  higher  relish  than  I  had  ever  before  done.  This,  in 
mo,  did  not  give  rise  to  the  least  tendency  to  moroseness  or 
superstition,  nothing  being  more  apt  than  misdin-ctcd  devo- 
tion to  weaken  and  distort  the  mind.  With  the  love  of  God 
and  mankind,  it  inspired  me  also  with  a  veneration  for 
justice,  and  an  abhorrence  of  wickedness,  along  with  a  desire 
of  pardoning  the  wicked.  Christianity,  instead  of  militating 
against  anything  good,  which  I  had  derived  from  philosophy, 
etrengthened  it  by  the  aid  of  logical  deductions,  at  once 
more  powerful  and  profound. 

trading  one  day  that  it  was  necessary  to  pray  withoi.l 
ceasing,  and  that  prayer  did  not  consist  in  many  words 
uttered  after  the  manner  of  the  Pharisees,  but  in  making 
every  word  and  action  accord  with  the  will  of  God.  T  d<  •:  •  r- 
mined  to  commence  with  earnestness,  to  pray  in  the  spirit 


MY  TEN  YEARS'  IMPRISONMENT.  17 

with  unceasing  effort :  in  other  words,  to  permit  no  one 
thought  which  should  not  be  inspired  by  a  wish  to  conform 
my  whole  life  to  the  decrees  of  God. 

The  forms  I  adopted  were  simple  and  few ;  not  from  con- 
tempt of  them  (I  think  them  very  salutary,  and  calculated 
to  excite  attention) ,  but  from  the  circumstance  of  my  being 
unable  to  go  through  them  at  length,  without  becoming  so 
far  abstracted  as  to  make  me  forget  the  solemn  duty  in 
which  I  am  engaged.  This  habitual  observance  of  prayer, 
and  the  reflection  that  God  is  omnipresent  as  well  as  omni- 
potent in  His  power  to  save,  began  ere  long  to  deprive 
solitude  of  its  horrors,  and  I  often  repeated,  "  Have  I  not 
the  best  society  man  can  have  ?  "  and  from  this  period  I 
grew  more  che-jrful,  I  -,'ven  sang  and  whistled  in  the  ne"w 
joy  of  my  heart.  And  why  lament  my  captivity  ?  Might 
not  a  sudden  fever  have  carried  me  off  ?  and  would  my 
friends  then  have  grieved  less  over  my  fate  than  now  ?  and 
cannot  God  sustain  them  even  as  He  could  under  a  more 
trying  dispensation  ?  And  often  did  I  offer  up  my  prayers 
and  fervent  hopes  that  my  dear  parents  might  feel,  as  I 
myself  felt,  resigned  to  my  lot ;  but  tears  frequently  mingled 
with  sweet  recoil"!  tmns  of  home.  With  all  this,  my  faith 
La  God  remained  undisturbed,  and  I  was  not  disappointed. 


CIlAiTEU    VII. 

To  live  at  iiV-'\y  is  doubtless  much  better  than  living  in  a 
prison;  but,  <:ven  here,  the  reflection  that  God  is  present 
•with  us,  thut  <?•  rldly  j  )ys  are  brief  and  fleeting,  and  that 
true  happiness  is  to  be  sought  in  the  conscience,  not  in 
external  objects,  can  give  a  real  zest  to  life.  In  less  than 
one  month  I  had  made  up  my  mind,  I  will  not  say  perfectly, 
but  in  a  tolerable  degree,  as  to  the  part  I  should  adopt.  I 
saw  that,  being  incapable  of  tho  mean  action  of  obtaining 
impunity  by  procuring  the  destruction  of  others,  the  only 


18  MY  TEN  TEAKS'  IMPRISONMENT. 

prospect  that  lay  before  me  was  the  scaffold,  or  long  pro- 
tracted captivity.  It  was  necessary  that  I  should  prepare 
myself.  I  will  live,  I  said  to  myself,  so  long  as  I  shall  be 
permitted,  and  when  they  take  my  life,  I  will  do  as  the 
unfortunate  have  done  before  me  ;  when  arrived  at  the  last 
moment,  I  can  die.  I  endeavoured,  as  much  as  possible,  not 
to  complain,  and  to  obtain  every  possible  enjoyment  of 
mind  within  my  reach.  The  most  customary  was  that  of 
recalling  the  many  advantages  which  had  thrown  a  charm 
round  my  previous  life ;  the  best  of  fathers,  of  mothers, 
excellent  brothers  and  sisters,  many  f  riends,  a  good  educa- 
tion, and  a  taste  for  letters.  Should  I  now  refuse  to  be 
grateful  to  God  for  all  these  benefits,  because  He  had  pleased 
to  visit  me  with  misfortune  ?  Sometimes,  indeed,  in  recall- 
ing past  scenes  to  mind,  I  was  affected  even  to  tears ;  but  I 
soon  recovered  my  courage  and  cheerfulness  of  heart. 

At  the  commencement  of  my  captivity  I  was  fortunate 
enough  to  meet  with  a  friend.  It  was  neither  the  governor, 
nor  any  of  his  under- jailers,  nor  any  of  the  lords  of  the 
process-chamber.  Who  then  ? — a  poor  deaf  and  dumb  boy, 
five  or  six  years  old,  the  offspring  of  thieves,  who  had  paid 
the  penalty  of  the  law.  This  wretched  little  orphan  was 
supported  by  the  police,  with  several  other  boys  in  the  same 
condition  of  life.  They  all  dwelt  in  a  room  opposite  my 
own,  and  were  only  permitted  to  go  out  at  certain  hours  to 
breathe  a  little  air  in  the  yard.  Little  deaf  and  dumb  used 
to  come  under  my  window,  smiled,  and  made  his  obeisance 
to  me.  I  threw  him  a  piece  of  bread ;  he  took  it,  and  g.ive 
a  leap  of  joy,  then  ran  to  his  companions,  divided  it,  ;md 
returned  to  eat  his  own  share  under  the  window.  The 
others  gave  me  a  wistful  look  from  a  distance,  but  ventured 
no  nearer,  while  the  deaf  and  dumb  boy  expressed  a 
sympathy  for  me ;  not,  I  found,  affected,  out  of  mere 
selfishness.  Sometimes  he  was  at  a  loss  what  to  do  with 
the  bread  I  gave  him,  and  made  signs  tliat  he  had  eaten 


MY  TEN  YEARS'  IMPRISONMENT.  19 

enough,  as  also  his  companions.  When  lie  saw  one  of  the 
under- jailers  going  into  my  room,  he  would  give  him  what 
he  had  got  from  me,  in  order  to  restore  it  to  me.  Yet  he 
continued  to  haunt  my  window,  and  seemed  rejoiced  when- 
ever I  deigned  to  notice  him.  One  day  the  jailer  permitted 
him  to  enter  my  prison,  when  he  instantly  ran  to  embrace 
my  knees,  actually  uttering  a  cry  of  joy.  I  took  him  up  in 
my  arms,  and  he  threw  his  little  hands  ahout  my  neck,  and 
lavished  on  me  the  tenderest  caresses.  How  much  affection 
in  his  smile  and  manner !  how  eagerly  I  longed  to  have  him 
to  educate,  raise  him  from  his  abject  condition,  and  snatch, 
him,  perhaps,  from  utter  ruin.  I  never  even  learnt  his 
name;  he  did  not  himself  know  that  he  had  one.  He 
seemed  always  happy,  and  I  never  saw  him  weep  except 
once,  and  that  was  on  being  beaten,  I  know  not  why,  by 
the  jailer.  Strange  that  he  should  be  thus  happy  in  a 
receptacle  of  so  much  pain  and  sorrow ;  yet  he  was  light- 
hearted  as  the  son  of  a  grandee.  From  him  I  learnt,  at 
least,  that  the  mind  rteed  not  depend  on  situation,  but  may 
be  rendered  independent  of  external  things.  Govern  the 
imagination,  and  we.  shall  be  well,  wheresoever  we  happen  to 
be  placed.  A  day  is  soon  over,  and  if  at  night  we  can  retire  to 
rest  without  actual  pain  and  hunger,  it  little  matters  whether 
it  be  within  the  walls  of  a  prison,  or  of  a  kind  of  building 
which  they  calla  palace.  Good  reasoningthis ;  but  how  are  we 
to  contrive  so  to  govern  the  imagination  P  I  began  to  try, 
and  sometimes  I  thought  I  had  succeeded  to  a  miracle ;  but 
at  others  the  enchantress  triumphed,  and  I  was  unexpectedly 
astonished  to  find  tears  starting  into  my  eyes. 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

I  AM  so  far  fortunate,  I  often  said,  that  they  have  given  ma 
a  dungeon  on  the  ground  floor,  near  the  court,  where  that 
dear  boy  comes  within  a  few  steps  of  me,  to  converse  in  our 


20  MY  TEN  YEARS'  IMPRISONMENT. 

own  mute  language.  We  made  immense  progress  in  it;  we 
expressed  a  thousand  various  feelings  I  had  no  idea  we  could 
do,  by  the  natural  expressions  of  the  eye,  the  gesture,  and 
the  whole  countenance.  Wonderful  human  intelligence ! 
How  graceful  were  his  motions !  how  beautiful  his  smile ! 
how  quickly  he  corrected  whatever  expression  I  saw  of  his 
that  oeemed  to  displease  me !  How  well  he  understands  I 
love  him,  when  he  plays  with  any  of  his  companions! 
Standing  only  at  my  window  to  observe  him,  it  seemed  as 
if  1  possessed  a  kind  of  influence  over  his  mind,  favourable 
to  his  education.  By  dint  of  repeating  the  mutual  exercise 
of  signs,  we  should  be  enabled  to  perfect  the  communication 
of  our  ideas.  The  more  instruction  he  gets,  the  more 
gentle  and  kind  he  becomes,  the  more  he  will  be  attached  to 
me.  To  him  I  shall  be  the  genius  of  reason  and  of  good ; 
he  will  learn  to  confide  his  sorrows  to  me,  his  pleasures,  all 
he  feels  and  wishes ;  I  will  console,  elevate,  and  direct  him 
in  his  whole  conduct.  It  may  be  that  this  my  lot  may  be 
protracted  from  month  to  month,  even  till  I  grow  grey  in 
my  captivity.  Perhaps  this  little  child  may  continue  to 
grow  under  my  eye,  and  become  one  in-  the  service  of  this 
large  family  of  pain,  and  grief,  and  calamity.  With  such  a 
disposition  as  he  has  already  shown,  what  would  become  of 
him  ?  Alas ;  he  would  at  most  be  made  only  a  good  under- 
keeper,  or  fill  some  similar  place.  Yet  I  shall  surely  have 
conferred  on  him  some  benefit  if  I  can  succeed  in  giving  him 
a  desire  to  do  kind  offices  to  the  good  and  to  himself,  and  to 
nourish  sentiments  of  habitual  Iwnevolcnce.  This  soliloquy 
was  very  natural  in  my  situation;  I  was  always  fond  of 
children,  and  the  office  of  an  instructor  appeared  to  me  a 
sublime  duty.  For  a  few  years  I  had  acted  in  that  capacity 
with  Giacomo  and  Giulio  Porro,  two  young  men  of  noble 
promise,  whom  I  loved,  and  shall  continue  to  love  as  if  they 
were  my  own  sons.  Often  while  in  pi-ison  were  my  thoughts 
busied  with  them ;  and  how  it  grieved  me  not  to  be  enabled 


MY  TEN  TEARS'  IMPRISONMENT.  21 

to  complete  their  education.  I  sincerely  prayed  that  they 
might  meet  with  a  new  master,  who  would  bo  as  much 
attached  to  them  as  I  had  been. 

At  times  I  could  not  help  exclaiming  to  myself,  What  a 
strange  burlesque  is  all  this !  instead  of  two  noble  youths, 
rich  in  all  that  nature  and  fortune  can  endow  them  with, 
here  I  have  a  pupil,  poor  little  fellow !  deaf,  dumb,  a  cast- 
away ;  the  son  of  a  robber,  who  at  most  can  aspire  only  to 
the  rank  of  an  under-jailer,  and  which,  in  a  little  less 
softened  phraseology,  would  mean  to  say  a  sbirro.*  This 
reflection  confused  and  disquieted  me ;  yet  hardly  did  I  hear 
the  strillo  f  of  my  little  dummy  than  I  felt  my  heart  grow 
warm  again,  just  as  a  father  when  he  hears  the  voice  of  a 
son.  I  lost  all  anxiety  about  his  mean  estate.  It  is  no 
fault  of  his  if  he  be  lopped  of  Nature's  fairest  proportions, 
and  was  born  the  son  of  a  robber.  A  humane,  generous 
heart,  in  an  age  of  innocence,  is  always  respectable.  I 
looked  on  him,  therefore,  from  day  to  day  with  increased 
affection,  and  was  more  than  ever  desirous  of  cultivating  his 
good  qualities,  and  his  growing  intelligence.  Nay,  perhaps 
we  might  both  live  to  get  out  of  prison,  when  I  would 
establish  him  in  the  college  fur  the  deaf  and  dumb,  and  thus 
open  for  him  a  path  more  fortunate  and  pleasing  than  to 
play  the  part  of  a  sbirro.  •  Whilst  thus  pleasingly  engaged  in 
meditating  his  future  welfare,  two  of  the  under- jailers  one 
day  walked  into  my  cell. 

"  You  must  change  your  quarters,  sir  !  " 

"  What  mean  you  by  that? " 

"We  have  orders  to  remove  you  into  another  chamber." 

"Why  so?"  , 

"  Some  other  great  bird  has  been  caged,  and  this  being 
the  better  apartment — you  understand." 

"  Oh,  yes !  it  is  the  first  resting-place  for  tie  newly 
arrived." 

•  A  bailiff,      f  A  sort  of  scream  peculiar  to  dumb  children. 


22  MY  TEN  YEARS'  IMPRISONMENT. 

They  conveyed  me  to  the  opposite  side  of  the  court,  where 
I  could  no  longer  converse  with  my  little  deaf  and  dumb 
friend,  and  was  far  removed  from  the  ground  floor.  In 
walking  across,  T  beheld  the  poor  boy  sitting  on  the  ground, 
overcome  with  grief  and  astonishment,  for  he  knew  he  had 
lost  me.  Ere  I  quite  disappeared,  he  ran  towards  me ;  my 
conductors  tried  to  drive  him  away,  but  he  reached  me,  and 
I  caught  him  in  my  arms,  and  returned  his  caresses  with 
expressions  of  tenderness  I  sought  not  to  conceal.  I  tore 
myself  from  him,  and  entered  my  new  abode. 


CHAPTER  IX. 

IT  was  a  dark  and  gloomy  place ;  instead  of  glass  it  had 
pasteboard  for  the  windows;  the  walls  were  rendered  more 
repulsive  by  being  hung  with  some  wretched  attempts  at 
painting,  and  when  free  from  this  lugubrious  colour,  were 
covered  with  inscriptions.  These  last  gave  the  name  and 
country  of  many  an  unhappy  inmate,  with  the  date  of  the 
fatal  day  of  their  captivity.  Some  consisted  of  lamentations 
on  the  perfidy  of  false  friends,  denouncing  their  own  folly, 
or  women,  .or  the  judge  who  condemned  them.  Among  a 
few  were  brief  sketches  of  the  victims'  lives  ;  still  fewer 
embraced  moral  maxims.  I  found  the  following  words  of 
Pascal :  "  Let  those  who  attack  religion  learn  first  what 
religion  is.  Could  it  boast  of  commanding  a  direct  view  of 
the  Deity,  without  veil  or  mystery,  it  would  be  to  attack 
that  religion  to  say,  'that  there  is  nothing  seen  in  the 
world  which  displays  Him  with  such  clear  evidence.'  But 
since  it  rather  asserts  that,  man  is  involved  in  darkness,  far 
from  God,  who  is  hidden  from  human  knowledge,  insomuch 
as  to  give  Himself  thu  name  in  scripture  of  '  Deus  abscon- 
dituxt>  what  advantage  can  the  enemies  of  religion  derive' 
when,  neglecting,  as  they  profess  to  do,  the  science  of  truth, 
they  complain  that  the  truth  is  not  made  apparent  to  them  ?  " 


MY  TEN  YEARS'  IMPRISONMENT.  23 

Lower  down  was  written  (the  words  of  the  same  author), 
"  It  is  not  here  a  question  of  some  trivial  interest  relating 
to  a  stranger;  it  applies  to  ourselves,  and  to  all  we  possess. 
The  immortality  of  the  soul  is  a  question  of  that  deep  and 
momentous  importance  to  all,  as  to  imply  an  utter  loss  of 
reason  to  rest  totally  indifferent  as  to  the  truth  or  the  fallacy 
of  the  proposition."  Another  inscription  was  to  this  effect : 
"  I  bless  the  hour  of  my  imprisonment ;  it  has  taught  me  to 
know  the  ingratitude  of  man,  my  own  frailty,  and  the  good- 
ness of  God."  Close  to  these  words  again  appeared  the 
proud  and  desperate  imprecations  of  one  who  signed  himself 
an  Atheist,  and  who  launched  his  impieties  against  the  Deity, 
as  if  he  had  forgotten  that  he  had  just  before  said  there  was 
no  God.  Then  followed  another  column,  reviling  the 
cowardly  fools,  as  they  were  termed,  whom  captivity  had 
converted  into  fanatics.  I  one  day  pointed  out  these  strange 
impieties  to  one  of  the  jailers,  and  inquired  who  had  written 
them?  "I  am  glad  I  have  found  this,"  was  the  reply, 
"  there  are  so  many  of  them,  and  I  have  so  little  time  to 
look  for  them ; "  and  he  took  his  knife,  and  began  to  erase 
it  as  fast  as  he  could. 

"  Why  do  you  do  that?  "  I  inquired  of  him. 

"  Because  the  poor  devil  who  wrote  it  was  condemned  to 
death  for  a  cold-blooded  murder ;  he  repented,  and  made  us 
promise  to  do  him  this  kindness." 

"  Heaven  pardon  him!  "  I  exclaimed;  "what  was  it  he 
did?" 

"  Why,  as  he  found  he  could  not  kill  his  enemy,  he  re- 
venged himself  by  slaying  the  man's  son,  one  of  the  finest 
boys  you  ever  saw." 

I  was  horror-struck.  Could  ferocity  of  disposition  pro- 
ceed to  such  lengths  ?  and  could  a  monster,  capable  of  such 
a  deed,  hold  the  insulting  language  of  a  man  superior  to  all 
human,  weaknesses  ?  to  murder  the  innocent,  and  a  child  1 


24  MY  TEN  YEARS'  IMPRISONMENT. 

CHAPTER  X. 

IN  my  new  prison,  black  and  filthy  to  an  extreme,  I  sadly 
missed  the  society  of  my  little  dumb  friend.  I  stood  for 
hours  in  anxious,  weary  mood,  at  the  window  which  looked 
over  a  gallery,  on  the  other  side  of  which  could  be  seen  the 
extremity  of  the  court-yard,  and  the  window  of  my  former 
cell.  Who  had  succeeded  me  there  ?  I  could  discern  his 
figure,  as  he  paced  quickly  to  and  fro,  apparently  in  violent 
agitation.  Two  or  three  days  subsequently,  I  perceived  that 
he  had  got  writing  materials,  and  remained  busied  at  his 
little  table  the  whole  of  the  day.  At  length  I  recognised 
him.  He  came  forth  accompanied  by  his  jailer ;  he  was 
going  to  be  examined,  when  I  saw  he  was  no  other  than 
Mi  Ichiorre  Gioja.*  It  went  to  my  heart : — "  You,  too,  noble, 
excellent  man,  have  not  escaped ! "  Yet  he  was  more 
fortunate  than  I.  After  a  few  months'  captivity,  he  re- 
gained his  liberty.  To  behold  any  really  estimable  being 
always  does  me  good;  it  affords  me  pleasant  matter  for 
reflection,  and  for  esteem — both  of  great  advantage.  I 
could  have  laid  down  my  life  to  save  such  a  man  from 
captivity  ;  yet  merely  to  see  him  was  some  consolation  to 
me.  After  regarding  him  intently,  some  time,  to  ascertain 
if  he  were  tranquil  or  agitated,  I  offered  up  a  heart-felt 
prayer  for  his  deliverance ;  I  felt  my  spirits  revived,  a 
greater  flow  of  ideas,  and  greater  satisfaction  with  myself. 

*  Melchiorre  Gioja,  a  native  of  Piacenza,  was  one  of  the  most 
profound  writers  of  our  times,  principally  upon  subjects  of  public 
economy.  Being  suspected  of  carrying  on  a  secret  correspon.lence, 
he  was  arrested  in  1820,  and  imprisoned  for  a  space  of  nine  months. 
Among  the  more  celebrated  of  his  works  are  those  entitled,  Nuovo 
prospctto  delle  Scienze  Ecouomiche,  Trattnto  del  Merita  e  della  Kicom- 
pente,  Dell'  Ingiurui  e  dei  Daunt,  Ftfosofin  della  Statittica,  Ideolngia  e 
Esercizo  Logico,  Delle  Ifanifaiturt,  Del  Uivorzio,  Klemenli  di  Filnsofia, 
tluovo  Galatoo,  Qual  Governo  convenga  all'  Italia.  This  able  writer 
died  in  the  month  of  January,  1829. 


MY  TEN  TEAKS'  IMPRISONMENT.  25 

Such  an  incident  as  this  has  a  charm  for  utter  solitude,  of 
which  you.  can  form  no  idea  without  experiencing  it.  A 
poor  dumb  boy  had  before  supplied  me  with  this  real  en- 
joyment, and  I  now  derived  it  from  a  distant  view  of  a  man 
of  distinguished  merit. 

Perhaps  some  one  of  the  jailers  had  informed,  him  where 
I  was.  One  morning,  on  opening  his  window,  he  waved  hia 
handkerchief  in  token  of  salutation,  and  I  replied  in  the 
same  manner.  I  need  not  describe  the  pleasure  I  felt ;  it 
appeared  as  if  we  were  no  longer  separated ;  and  we  dis- 
coursed in  the  silent  intercourse  of  the  spirit,  which,  when 
every  other  medium  is  cut  off,  in  the  least  look,  gesture,  or 
signal  of  any  kind,  can  make  itself  comprehended  and  felt. 

It  was  with  no  small  pleasure  I  anticipated  a  Continuation 
of  this  friendly  communication.  Day  after  day,  however, 
went  on,  and  I  was  never  more  gratified  by  the  appearance 
of  the  same  favourite  signals.  Yet  I  frequently  saw  my 
friend  at  his  window ;  I  waved  my  handkerchief,  but  in 
vain  ;  he  answered  it  no  more.  I  was  now  informed  by  our 
jailers,  that  Gioja  had  been  strictly  prohibited  from  exciting 
my  notice,  or  replying  to  it  in  any  manner.  Notwithstand- 
ing, he  still  continued  to  look  at  me,  and  I  at  him,  and  in 
this  way,  we  conversed  upon  a  great  variety  of  subjects, 
which  helped  to  keep  us  alive. 


CHAPTER  XI. 

ALONG  the  same  gallery,  upon  a  level  with  my  prison,  I  saw 
other  prisoners  passing  and  repassing  the  whole  day  to  the 
place  of  examination.  They  were,  for  the  chief  part,  of 
lowly  condition,  but  occasionally  one  or  two  of  better  rank. 
All,  however,  attracted  my  attention,  brief  as  was  the  sight 
of  them,  and  I  truly  compassionated  them.  So  sorrowful  a 
spectacle  for  some  time  filled  me  with  grief,  but  by  degrees 
I  became  habituated  to  it,  and  at  last  it  rather  relieved  than 


26  MY  TEN  YEARS'  IMPRISONMENT 

added  to  the  horror  of  my  solitude.  A  number  of  won.'.  ;i, 
also,  who  had  been  arrested,  passed  by.  There  was  a  way 
from  the  gallery,  through  a  large  vault,  leading  to  another 
court,  and  in  that  part  were  placed  the  female  prisoners,  and 
others  labouring  under  disease.  A  single  wall,  and  very 
slight,  separated  my  dwelling  from  that  of  some  of  the 
women.  Sometimes  I  was  almost  deafened  with  their  songs, 
at  others  with  their  bursts  of  maddened  mirth.  Late  at 
evening,  when  the  din  of  day  had  ceased,  I  could  hear  them 
conversing,  and,  had  I  wished,  I  could  easily  have  joined 
with  them.  Was  it  timidity,  pride,  or  prudence  which 
restrained  me  from  all  communication  with  the  unfortunate 
and  degraded  of  their  sex  ?  Perhaps  it  partook  of  all, 
Woman,  when  she  is  what  she  ought  to  be,  is  for  me  a 
creature  so  admirable,  so  sublime,  the  mere  seeing,  hearing, 
and  speaking  to  her,  enriches  my  mind  with  such  noble 
fantasies ;  but  rendered  vile  and  despicable,  she  disturbs,  she 
afflicts,  she  deprives  my  heart,  as  it  were,  of  all  its  poetry 
and  its  love.  Spite  of  this,  there  were  among  those  femi- 
nine voices,  some  so  very  sweet  that,  there  is  no  use  in 
denying  it,  they  were  dear  to  me.  One  in  particular  sur- 
passed the  rest ;  I  heard  it  more  seldom,  and  it  uttered 
nothing  unworthy  of  its  fascinating  tone.  She  sung  little, 
and  mostly  kept  repeating  these  two  pathetic  lines : — 

Chi  rende  alia  meschina 
La  sua  felicitk  ? 

Ah,  who  will  give  the  lost  one 
Her  vanished  dream  of  bliss  ? 

At  other  times,  she  would  sing  from  the  litany.  Her 
companions  joined  with  her ;  but  still  I  could  discern  the 
•voice  of  Maddalene  from  all  others,  which  seemed  only  to 
unite  for  the  purpose  of  robbing  me  of  it.  Sometimes,  too, 
when  her  companions  were  recounting  to  her  their  various 
misfortunes,  I  could  hear  her  pitying  them ;  could  catch 
even  her  very  sighs,  while  she  invariably  strove  to  console 


MY  TEN  YEARS'  IMPRISONMENT.  27 

them  :  "  Courage,  courage,  my  poor  dear,"  she  one  day  said, 
"  God  is  verg  good,  and  He  will  not  ahandon  us." 

How  could  I  do  otherwise  than  imagine  she  was  beautiful, 
more  unfortunate  than  guilty,  naturally  virtuous,  and 
capahle  of  reformation  ?  Who  would  blame  me  because  I 
was  affected  with  what  she  said,  listened  to  her  with  respect, 
and  offered  up  my  prayers  for  her  with  more  than  usual 
earnestness  of  heart.  Innocence  is  sacred,  and  repentance 
ought  to  be  equally  respected.  Did  the  most  perfect  of 
men,  the  Divinity  on  earth,  refuse  to  cast  a  pitying  eye  on 
weak,  sinful  women ;  to  respect  their  fear  and  confusion, 
and  rank  them  among  the  minds  he  delighted  to  consort 
with  and  to  honour  P  By  what  law,  then,  do  we  act,  when 
we  treat  with  so  much  contempt  women  fallen  into 
ignominy  ? 

While  thus  reasoning,  I  was  frequently  tempted  to  raise 
my  voice  and  speak,  as  a  brother  in  misfortune,  to  poor 
Maddalene.  I  had  often  even  got  out  the  first  syllable ;  and 
how  strange !  I  felt  my  heart  beat  like  an  enamoured  youth 
of  fifteen  ;  I  who  had  reached  thirty-one ;  and  it  seemed  as 
if  I  should  never  be  able  to  pronounce  the  name,  till  I  cried 
out  almost  in  a  rage,  "  Mad !  Mad !  "  yes,  mad  enough, 
thought  L 


CHAPTER  XII. 

THUS  ended  my  romance  with  that  poor  unhappy  one ;  yet 
it  did  not  fail  to  produce  me  many  sweet  sensations  during 
several  weeks.  Often,  when  steeped  in  melancholy,  would 
her  sweet  calm  voice  breathe  consolation  to  my  spirit; 
when,  dwelling  on  the  meanness  and  ingratitude  of  man- 
kind, I  became  irritated,  and  hated  the  world,  the  voice  of 
Maddalene  gently  led  me  back  to  feelings  of  compassion  and 
indulgence. 

How  I  wish,  poor,  unknown,  kind-hearted  repentant  one, 


28  MY  TEN  YEARS'  IMPRISONMENT. 

that  no  heavy  punishment  may  befall  thee.  And  whatever 
thou  shalt  suffer,  may  it  well  avail  thee,  re-dignify  thy 
nature,  and  teach  thee  to  live  and  die  to  thy  Saviour  and 
thy  Lord.  Mayest  thou  meet  compassion  and  respect  from 
all  around  thee,  as  thou  didst  from  me  a  stranger  to  thee. 
Mayest  thou  teach  all  who  see  thee  thy  gentle  lesson  of 
patience,  sweetness,  the  love  of  virtue,  and  faith  in  God, 
with  which  thou  didst  inspire  him  who  loved  without 
having  beheld  thee.  Perhaps  I  erred  in  thinking  thee 
beautiful,  but,  sure  I  am,  thou  didst  wear  the  beauty  of  the 
soul.  Thy  conversation,  though  spoken  amidst  grossnesa 
and  corruption  of  every  kind,  was  ever  chaste  and  graceful ; 
whilst  others  imprecated,  thou  didst  bless ;  when  eager  in 
contention,  thy  sweet  voice  still  pacified,  like  oil  upon  the 
troubled  waters.  If  any  noble  mind  hath  read  thy  worth, 
and  snatched  thee  from  an  evil  career ;  hath  assisted  thee 
with  delicacy,  and  wiped  the  tears  from  thy  eyes,  may  every 
reward  heaven  can  give  be  his  portion,  that  of  his  children, 
and  of  his  children's  children! 

Next  to  mine  was  another  prison  occupied  by  several  men. 
I  also  heard  their  conversation.  One  seemed  of  superior 
authority,  not  so  much  probably  from  any  difference  of  rank, 
as  owing  to  greater  eloquence  and  boldness.  He  played, 
what  may  musically  be  termed,  the  first  fiddle.  He  stormed 
himself,  yet  put  to  silence  those  who  presumed  to  quarrel 
by  his  imperious  voice.  He  dictated  the  tone  of  the  society, 
and  after  some  feeble  efforts  to  throw  off  his  authority  they 
submitted,  and  gave  the  reins  into  his  hands. 

There  was  not  a  single  one  of  those  unhappy  men  who 
had  a  touch  of  that  in  him  to  soften  the  harshness  of  prison 
hours,  to  express  one  kindly  sentiment,  one  emanation  of  re- 
ligion, or  of  love.  The  chief  of  these  neighbours  of  mine 
saluted  me  ,  and  I  replied.  He  asked  me  how  I  contrived 
to  pass  such  a  cursed  dull  life  ?  I  answered,  that  it  was  melan- 
choly, to  be  sure  ;  but  no  life  wras  a  cursed  one  to  me,  and 


MY  TEN  YEARS'  IMPRISONMENT.  29 

that  to  our  last  hour,  it  was  best  to  do  all  to  procure  one- 
self the  pleasure  of  thinking  and  of  loving. 

"  Explain,  sir,  explain  what  you  mean !  " 

I  explained,  hut  was  not  understood.  After  many  inge- 
nious attempts,  I  determined  to  clear  it  up  in  the  form  of 
example,  and  had  the  courage  to  bring  forward  the  extremely 
singular  and  moving  effect  produced  upon  me  by  the  voice 
of  Maddalene ;  when  the  magisterial  head  of  the  prison 
burst  into  a  violent  fit  of  laughter.  "  What  is  all  that,  what 
is  that  ?  "  cried  his  companions.  He  then  repeated  my  words 
with  an  air  of  burlesque ;  peals  of  laughter  followed,  and  I 
there  stood,  in  their  eyes,  the  picture  of  a  convicted  block- 
head. 

As  it  is  in  prison,  so  it  is  in  the  world.  Those  who 
make  it  their  wisdom  to  go  into  passions,  to  complain,  to 
defy,  to  abuse,  think  that  to  pity,  to  love,  to  console  yourself 
with  gentle  and  beautiful  thoughts  and  images,  in  accord 
with  humanity  and  its  great  Author,  is  all  mere  folly. 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

I  LET  them  laugh  and  said  not  a  word ;  they  hit  at  me 
again  two  or  three  times,  but  I  was  mute.  "He  will  come 
no  more  near  the  window,"  said  one,  "he  will  hear  nothing 
but  the  sighs  of  Maddalene ;  we  have  offended  him  with 
laughing."  At  length,  the  chief  imposed  silence  upon  the 
whole  party,  all  amusing  themselves  at  my  expense.  "  Silence, 
beasts  as  you  are ;  devil  a  bit  you  know  what  you  are  talk- 
ing about.  Our  neighbour  is  none  so  long  eared  an  animal 
as  you  imagine.  Tou  do  not  possess  the  power  of  reflection, 
no  not  you.  I  grin  and  joke;  but  afterwards  I  reflect.  Every 
low-born  clown  can  stamp  and  roar,  as  we  do  here.  Grant 
a  little  more  real  cheerfulness,  a  spark  more  of  charity,  a 
bit  more  faith  in  the  blessing  of  heaven ; — what  do  you 
imagine  that  all  this  would  be  a  sign  of  ?  "  "  Now,  that  I 


30  MY  TEN  YEARS'  IMPBISONMENT. 

also  reflect,"  replied  one,  "  I  fancy  it  would  be  a  sign  of 
being  a  little  less  of  a  brute." 

"Bravo!"  cried  his  leader,  in  a  most  stentorian  howl ! 
"  now  I  begin  to  have  seme  hope  of  you." 

I  was  not  overproud  at  being  thus  rated  a  little  less  of  a 
brute  than  the  rest ;  yet  I  felt  a  sort  of  pleasure  that  these 
wretched  men  had  come  to  some  agreement  as  to  the  impor- 
tance of  cultivating,  in  some  degree,  more  benevolent  senti- 
ments, 

I  again  approached  the  window,  the  chief  called  me,  and 
I  answered,  hoping  that  I  might  now  moralise  with  him  in 
my  own  way.  I  was  deceived  ;  vulgar  minds  dislike  serious 
reasoning ;  if  some  noble  truth  start  up,  they  applaud  for 
a  moment,  but  the  next  withdraw  their  notice,  or  scruple 
not  to  attempt  to  shine  by  questioning,  or  aiming  to  place 
it  in  some  ludicrous  point  of  view. 

I  was  next  asked  if  I  were  imprisoned  for  debt  P 

"No." 

"Perhaps  you  are  paying  the  penalty  of  a  false  oath, 
then  ?  " 

"No,  it  is  quite  a  different  thing." 

"  An  affair  of  love,  most  likely,  I  guess  P  " 

"No." 

"  You  have  killed  a  man,  mayhap  P  ** 

"  No." 

'« It's  for  carbonarisiu,  then  P  " 

"Exactly  so." 

"  And  who  are  those  carbonari  P  " 

"  I  know  so  little  of  them.  I  cannot  tell  you." 

Here  a  jailer  interrupted  us  in  great  anger ;  and  after 
commenting  on  the  gross  improprieties  committed  by  my 
neighbours,  he  turned  towards  me,  not  with  the  gravity  of 
a  sbirro,  but  the  air  of  a  master  :  "  For  shame,  sir,  for 
shame !  to  think  of  talking  to  men  of  this  stamp !  do  you 
know,  sir,  that  they  are  all  robbers  ?  " 


MY  TEN  TEAKS'  IMPRISONMENT.  31 

I  reddened  up,  and  then  more  deeply  for  having  shown  I 
blushed,  and  methought  that  to  deign  to  converse  with  the 
unhappy  of  however  lowly  rank,  was  rather  a  mark  of  good- 
ness than  a  fault.  

CHAPTER  XIV. 

NEXT  morning  I  went  to  my  window  to  look  for  Melchiorre 
Gioja ;  hut  conversed  no  more  with  the  rohhers.  I  replied 
to  their  salutation,  and  added,  that  I  had  heen  forbidden  to 
hold  conversation.  The  secretary  who  had  presided  at  my 
examinations,  told  me  with  an  air  of  mystery,  I  was  ahout 
to  receive  a  visit.  After  a  little  further  preparation,  he  ac- 
quainted me  that  it  was  my  father ;  and  so  saying,  bade  me 
follow  him.  I  did  so,  in  a  state  of  great  agitation,  assuming 
at  the  same  time  an  appearance  of  perfect  calmness  in  order  not 
to  distress  my  unhappy  parent.  Upon  first  hearing  of  my 
arrest,  he  had  been  led  to  suppose  it  was  for  some  trifling 
affair,  and  that  I  should  soon  be  set  at  liberty.  Finding  his 
mistake,  however,  he  had  now  come  to  solicit  the  Austrian 
government  on  my  account.  Here,  too,  he  deluded  himself, 
for  he  never  imagined  I  could  have  been  rash  enough  to 
expose  myself  to  the  penalty  of  the  laws,  and  the  cheerful 
tone  in  which  I  now  spoke  persuaded  him  that  there  was 
nothing  very  serious  in  the  business. 

The  few  words  that  were  permitted  to  pass  between  us, 
gave  me  indescribable  pain ;  the  more  so  from  the  restraint 
I  had  placed  upon  my  feelings.  It  was  yet  more  difficult  at 
the  moment  of  parting.  In  the  existing  state  of  things,  as  re- 
garded Italy,  I  felt  convinced  that  Austria  would  make  some 
fearful  examples,  and  that  I  should  be  condemned  either  to 
death  or  long  protracted  imprisonment.  It  was  my  object 
to  conceal  this  from  my  father  and  to  flatter  his  hopes  at  a 
moment  when  I  was  inquiring  for  a  mother,  brother,  and 
sisters,  whom  I  never  expected  to  behold  more.  Though  I 
knew  it  to  be  impossible,  I  even  calmly  requested  of  him 


32  MY  TEN  YEARS'  IMPRISONMENT. 

that  he  would  come  and  see  me  'again,  while  my  heart  waa 
wrung  with  the  bitter  conflict  of  my  feelings.  He  took  his 
leave,  filled  with  the  same  agreeable  delusion,  and  I  pain- 
fully retraced  my  steps  back  into  my  dungeon.  I  thought 
that  solitude  would  now  be  a  relief  to  me ;  that  to  weep 
would  somewhat  ease  my  burdened  heart  ?  yet,  strange  to 
say,  I  could  not  shed  a  tear.  The  extreme  wretchedness 
of  feeling  this  inability  even  to  shed  tears  excites,  under 
some  of  the  heaviest  calamities,  is  the  severest  trial  of  all, 
and  I  have  often  experienced  it. 

An  acute  fever,  attended  by  severe  pains  in  my  head,  fol- 
lowed this  interview.  I  could  not  take  any  nourishment ; 
and  I  often  said,  how  happy  it  would  be  for  me,  were  it  in- 
deed to  prove  mortal.  Foolish  and  cowardly  wish !  heaven 
refused  to  hear  my  prayer,  and  I  now  feel  grateful  that  it 
did.  Though  a  stern  teacher,  adversity  fortifies  the  mind, 
and  renders  man  what  he  seems  to  have  been  intended  for  ; 
at  least,  a  good  man,  a  being  capable  of  struggling  with 
difficulty  and  danger ;  presenting  an  object  not  unworthy, 
even  in  the  eyes  of  the  old  Romans,  of  the  approbation  of  the 
gods.  

CHAPTER  XV. 

Two  days  afterwards  I  again  saw  my  father.  I  had  rested 
well  the  previous  night,  and  was  free  from  fever ;  before 
him  I  preserved  the  same  calm  and  even  cheerful  deportment, 
so  that  no  one  could  have  suspected  I  hud  recently  suffered. 
and  still  continued  to  suffer  so  much.  "  I  am  in  hoj 
observed  my  father,  "  that  within  a  very  few  days  we  shall  <  •<• 
you  at  Turin.  Your  mother  has  got  your  old  room  in  rc.uli- 
ness,  and  we  are  all  expecting  you  to  come.  Pressing  affairs 
now  cull  me  away,  but  lose  no  time,  I  entreat  you,  in  pre- 
paring to  rejoin  us  once  more."  His  kind  and  affecting  ex- 
pressions added  to  my  grief.  Compassion  and  filial  piety, 
not  unmingled  with  a  species  of  remorse,  induced  me  to 


MY  TEN  YEARS'  IMPRISONMENT.  33 

feign  assent;  yet  afterwards  I  reflected  how  much  more 
worthy  it  had  been,  both  o^  my  father  and  myself,  to  have 
frankly  told  him  that  most  probably,  we  should  never  see 
each  other  again,  at  least  in  this  world.  Let  us  take  fare- 
well like  men,  without  a  murmur  and  without  a  tear,  and  let 
me  receive  the  benediction  of  a  father  before  I  die.  As  re- 
garded myself,  I  should  wish  to  have  adopted  language  like 
that ;  but  when  I  gazed  on  his  aged  and  venerable  features, 
and  his  grey  hairs,  something  seemed  to  whisper  me,  that 
it  would  be  too  much  for  the  affectionate  old  man  to  bear ; 
and  the  words  died  in  my  heart.  Good  God !  I  thought, 
should  he  know  the  extent  of  the  evil,  he  might,  perhaps, 
run  distracted,  such  is  his  extreme  attachment  to  me :  he 
might  fall  at  my  feet,  or  even  expire  before  my  eyes.  Xo  ! 
I  could  not  tell  him  the  truth,  nor  so  much  as  prepare  him 
for  it ;  we  shed  not  a  tear,  and  he  took  his  departure  in  the 
same  pleasing  delusion  as  before.  On  returning  into  my  dun- 
geon I  was  seized  in  the  same  manner,  and  with  still  more 
aggravated  suffering,  as  I  had  been  after  the  last  interview ; 
and,  as  then,  my  anguish  found  no  relief  from  tears. 

I  had  nothing  now  to  do  but  resign  myself  to  all  the 
horrors  of  long  captivity,  and  to  the  sentence  of  death. 
But  to  prepare  myself  to  bear  the  idea  of  the  immense  load 
of  grief  that  must  fall  on  every  dear  member  of  my  family, 
on  learning  my  lot,  was  beyond  my  power.  It  haunt rd 
me  like  a  spirit,  and  to  fly  from  it  I  threw  myself  on  my 
knees,  and  in  a  passion  of  devotion  uttered  aloud  the 
following  prayer : — "  My  God !  from  thy  hand  I  will 
accept  all — for  me  all :  but  deign  most  wonderfully  to 
strengthen  the  hearts  of  those  to  whom  I  was  so  very  dear  ! 
Grant  thou  that  I  may  cease  to  be  such  to  them  now ;  and 
that  not  the  life  of  the  least  of  them  may  be  shortened  by 
their  care  for  me,  even  by  a  single  day ! " 

Strange !  wonderful  power  of  prayer !  for  several  hours 
my  mind  was  raised  to  a  contemplation  of  the  Deity.  'u>  ' 
B 


34  MY  TEN  TEARS'  IMPRISONMENT. 

my  confidence  in  His  goodness  proportionately  increased ; 
I  meditated  also  on  the  dignity  of  the  human  mind  when, 
freed  from  selfishness,  it  exerts  itself  to  will  only  that 
which  is  the  will  of  eternal  wisdom.  This  can  be  done, 
and  it  is  man's  duty  to  do  it.  Reason,  which  is  the  voice 
of  the  Deity,  teaches  us  that  it  is  right  to  submit  to  every 
sacrifice  for  the  sake  of  virtue.  And  how  could  the  sacri- 
fice which  we  owe  to  virtue  be  completed,  if  in  the  most 
trying  afflictions  we  struggle  against  the  will  of  Him  who 
is  the  source  of  all  virtue  ?  When  death  on  the  scaffold,  or 
any  other  species  of  martyrdom  becomes  inevitable,  it  is  a 
proof  of  wretched  degradation,  or  ignorance,  not  to  be  able 
to  approach  it  with  blessing  upon  our  lips.  Nor  is  it  only 
necessary  we  should  submit  to  death,  but  to  the  affliction 
which  we  know  those  most  dear  to  us  must  suffer  on  oui 
account.  All  it  is  lawful  for  us  to  ask  is,  that  God  will 
temper  such  affliction,  and  that  he  will  direct  us  all,  for 
such  a  prayer  is  always  sure  to  be  accepted. 


CHAPTER  XVI. 

FOR  a  period  of  some  days  I  continued  in  the  same  state  of 
mind ;  a  sort  of  calm  sorrow,  full  of  peace,  affection,  and 
religious  thoughts.  T  seemed  to  have  overcome  every 
•weakness,  and  as  if  I  were  no  longer  capable  of  suffering 
new  anxiety.  Fond  delusion !  it  is  man's  duty  to  aim  at 
reaching  as  near  to  perfection  as  possible,  though  he  can 
never  attain  it  here.  What  now  disturbed  me  was  the 
sight  of  an  unhappy  friend,  my  good  Piero,  who  passed 
along  the  gallery  within  a  few  yards  of  me,  while  I  stood 
at  my  window.  They  were  removing  him  from  his  cell 
into  the  prison  destined  for  criminals.  He  was  hurried  by 
so  swiftly  that  I  had  barely  time  to  recognise  him,  and  to 
receive  and  return  his  salutation. 

Poor  young  man  !  in  the  flower  of  his  age,  with  a  genius 


MY  TEN  TEAKS'  IMPRISONMENT.  35 

of  high,  promise,  of  frank,  upright,  and  most  affectionate 
disposition,  born  with  a  keen  zest  of  the  pleasures  of 
existence,  to  he  at  once  precipitated  into  a  dungeon,  with- 
out the  remotest  hope  of  escaping  the  severest  penalty  of 
the  laws.  So  great  was  my  compassion  for  him,  and  my 
regret  at  heing  unahle  to  afford  him  the  slightest  conso- 
lation, that  it  was  long  before  I  could  recover  my  composure 
of  mind.  I  knew  how  tenderly  he  was  attached  to  every 
member  of  his  numerous  family,  how  deeply  interested  in 
promoting  their  happiness,  and  how  devotedly  his  affection 
was  returned.  I  was  sensible  what  must  be  the  affliction  of 
each  and  all  under  so  heavy  a  calamity.  Strange,  that 
though  I  had  just  reconciled  myself  to  the  idea  in  my  own 
case,  a  sort  of  phrensy  seized  my  mind  when  I  depicted  the 
scene ;  and  it  continued  so  long  that  I  began  to  despair  of 
mastering  it. 

Dreadful  as  this  was,  it  was  still  but  an  illusion.  Ye 
afflicted  ones,  who  believe  yourselves  victims  of  some 
irresistible,  heart-rending,  and  increasing  grief,  suffer  a 
little  while  with  patience,  and  you  will  be  undeceived. 
Neither  perfect  peace,  nor  utter  wretchedness  can  be  of 
long  continuance  here  below.  Recollect  this  truth,  that 
you  may  not  become  unduly  elevated  in  prosperity,  and 
despicable  under  the  trials  which  assuredly  await  you. 
A  sense  of  weariness  and  apathy  succeeded  the  terrible 
excitement  I  had  undergone.  But  indifference  itself  is 
transitory,  and  I  had  some  fear  lest  I  should  continue  to 
suffer  without  relief  under  these  wretched  extremes  of 
feeling.  Terrified  at  the  prospect  of  such  a  future,  I  had 
recourse  once  more  to  the  only  Being  from  whom  I  could 
hope  to  receive  strength  to  bear  it,  and  devoutly  bent  down 
in  prayer.  I  beseeched  the  Father  of  mercies  to  befriend 
my  poor  deserted  Piero,  even  as  myself,  and  to  support  his 
family  no  less  than  my  own.  By  constant  repetition  of 
prayers  like  these,  I  became  perfectly  calm  and  resigned. 


36  MY  TEN  TEAKS'  IMPRISONMENT. 

CHAPTER  XVII. 

IT  was  then  I  reflected  upon  my  previous  violence ;  I  was 
angry  at  my  own  weakness  and  folly,  and  sought  means  of 
remedying  them.  I  had  recourse  to  the  following  expe- 
dient. Every  morning,  after  I  had  finished  my  devotions, 
I  set  myself  diligently  to  work  to  recall  to  mind  every 
possible  occurrence  of  a  trying  and  painful  kind,  such  as  a 
final  parting  from  my  dearest  friends  and  the  approach  of 
the  executioner.  I  did  this  not  only  in  order  to  inure  my 
nerves  to  bear  sudden  or  dreadful  incidents,  too  surely  my 
future  portion,  but  that  I  might  not  again  be  taken  un- 
awares. At  first  this  melancholy  task  was  insupportable, 
but  I  persevered;  and  in  a  short  time  became  reconciled 
to  it. 

In  the  spring  of  1821  Count  Luigi  Porro*  obtained  per- 
mission to  see  me.  Our  warm  friendship,  the  eagerness  to 
communicate  our  mutual  feelings,  and  the  restraint  imposed 
by  the  presence  of  an  imperial  secretary,  with  the  brief 
time  allowed  us,  the  presentiments  I  indulged,  and  our 
efforts  to  appear  calm,  all  led  me  to  expect  that  I  should 
be  thrown  into  a  state  of  fearful  excitement,  worse  than  I 
had  yet  suffered.  It  was  not  so ;  after  taking  his  leave  I 
remained  calm ;  such  to  me  proved  the  signal  efficacy  of 

•  The  Count  Luigi  Porro  was  one  of  the  most  distinguished  men 
of  Milan,  and  remarkable  for  the  zeal  ai.<l  liberality  with  which  he 
promoted  the  cultivation  of  literature  au.l  the  arts.  Having  early 
remarked  the  excellent  disposition  of  the  youthful  Pellico,  the  Count 
invited  him  to  reside  in  his  mansion,  av-J  take  upon  himself  thr> 
education  of  his  sons,  uniformly  considering  him,  at  the  same  tim<\ 
more  in  the  light  of  a  friend  than  of  a  dependent.  Count  Porro 
himself  subsequently  fell  under  the  suspicions  of  the  Austrian 
Government,  and  having  betaken  himself  to  flight,  was  twice  con- 
demned to  death  (as  contumacious),  the  first  time  under  the  charge 
of  Carbonarism,  and  the  second  time  for  a  pretended  conspiracy. 
The  sons  of  Count  Porro  are  more  than  once  alluded  to  by  their 
fnond  and  tutor,  as  the  author  designates  himself. 


MY  TEN  YEARS'  IMPRISONMENT.  37 

guarding  against  the  assault  of  sudden  and  violent  emo- 
tions. The  task  I  set  myself  to  acquire,  constant  calmness 
of  mind,  arose  less  from  a  desire  to  relieve  my  unhappincss 
than  from  a  persuasion  how  undignified,  unworthy,  and  in- 
jurious, was  a  temper  opposite  to  this,  I  mean  a  continued 
state  of  excitement  and  anxiety.  An  excited  mind  ceases 
to  reason ;  carried  away  by  a  resistless  torrent  of  wild 
ideas,  it  forms  for  itself  a  sort  of  mad  logic,  full  of  anger 
and  malignity ;  it  is  in  a  state  at  once  as  absolutely  un- 
philosophical  as  it  is  unchristian. 

If  I  were  a  divine  I  should  often  insist  upon  the  necessity 
of  correcting  irritability  and  inquietude  of  character ;  nene 
can  be  truly  good  without  that  be  effected.  How  nobly 
pacific,  both  with  regard  to  himself  and  others,  was  He 
•whom  we  are  all  bound  to  imitate.  There  is  no  elevation 
of  mind,  no  justice  without  moderation  in  principles  and 
ideas,  without  a  pervading  spirit  which  inclines  us  rather 
to  smile  at,  than  fall  into  a  passion  with,  the  events  of  this 
little  life.  Anger  is  never  productive  of  any  good,  except 
in  the  extremely  rare  case  of  being  employed  to  humble  the 
wicked,  and  to  terrify  them  from  pursuing  the  path  of 
crime,  even  as  the  usurers  were  driven  by  an  angry 
Saviour,  from  polluting  his  holy  Temple.  Violence  and 
excitement,  perhaps,  differing  altogether  from  what  I  felt, 
are  no  less  blamable.  Mine  was  the  mania  of  despair  and 
affliction :  I  felt  a  disposition,  while  suffering  under  its 
horrors,  to  hate  and  to  curse  mankind.  Several  individuals, 
in  particular,  appeared  to  my  imagination  depicted  in  the 
most  revolting  colours.  It  is  a  sort  of  moral  epidemic,  I 
believe,  springing  from  vanity  and  selfishness  ;  for  when  a 
man  despises  and  detests  his  fellow-creatures,  he  neces- 
sarily assumes  that  he  is  much  better  than  the  rest  of  the 
world.  The  doctrine  of  such  men  amounts  to  this : — 
"  Let  us  admire  only  one  another,  if  we  turn  the  rest  of 
mankind  into  a  mere  mob,  we  shall  appear  like  demi-gods 


38  MY  TEN  TEAKS'  IMPRISONMENT. 

on  earth-"  It  is  a  curious  fact  that  living  in  a  state  of 
hostility  and  rage  actually  affords  pleasure  ;  it  seems  as  if 
people  thought  there  was  a  species  of  heroism  in  it.  If,  un- 
fortunately, the  object  of  our  wrath  happens  to  die,  we 
lose  no  time  in  finding  some  one  to  fill  the  vacant  place. 
Whom  shall  I  attack  next,  whom  shall  I  hate  ?  Ah !  is 
that  the  villain  I  was  looking  out  for  ?  What  a  prize  ! 
Now  my  friends,  at  him,  give  him  no  quarter.  Such  is 
the  world,  and,  without  uttering  a  libel,  I  may  add  that  it 
is  not  what  it  ought  to  be. 


CHAPTER   XVIII. 

IT  showed  no  great  malignity,  however,  to  complain  of  the 
horrible  place  in  which  they  had  incarcerated  me,  but  for- 
tunately another  room  became  vacant,  and  I  was  agreeably 
surprised  on  being  informed  that  I  was  to  have  it.  Yet 
strangely  enough,  I  reflected  with  regret  that  I  was  about 
to  leave  the  vicinity  of  Maddalene.  Instead  of  feeling 
rejoiced,  I  mourned  over  it  with  almost  childish  feeling. 
I  had  always  attached  myself  to  some  object,  even  from 
motives  comparatively  slight.  On  leaving  my  horrible 
abode,  I  cast  back  a  glance  at  the  heavy  wall  against 
which  I  had  so  often  supported  myself,  while  listening  as 
closely  as  possible  to  the  gentle  voice  of  the  repentant  girl. 
I  felt  a  desire  to  hear,  if  only  for  the  last  time,  those  two 
pathetic  lines, — 

Chi  rende  alia  mesclrina 

La  sun,  f elicits  ? 

Vain  hope  !  here  was  another  separation  in  the  short  period 
of  my  unfortunate  life.  But  I  will  not  go  into  any  further 
details,  lest  the  world  should  laugh  at  me,  though  it  would 
be  hypocrisy  in  me  to  affect  to  conceal  that,  for  several 
days  after,  I  felt  melancholy  at  this  imaginary  parting. 


MY  TEN  TEARS'  IMPRISONMENT.  39 

While  going  out  of  my  dungeon  I  also  made  a  farewell 
signal  to  two  of  the  robbers,  who  had  been  my  neighbours, 
and  who  were  then  standing  at  their  window.  Their  chief 
also  got  notice  of  my  departure,  ran  to  the  window,  and 
repeatedly  saluted  me.  He  began  likewise  to  sing  the 
little  air,  Chi  rende  alia  meschina  ;  and  was  this,  thought  I, 
merely  to  ridicule  me  ?  No  doubt  that  forty  out  of  fifty 
would  say  decidedly,  "  It  was !  "  In  spite,  however,  of 
being  outvoted,  I  incline  to  the  opinion  that  the  good  robber 
meant  it  kindly ;  and,  as  such  I  received  it,  and  gave  him  a 
look  of  thanks.  He  saw  it,  and  thrust  his  arm  through  the 
bars,  and  waved  his  cap,  nodding  kindly  to  me  as  I  turned  to 
go  down  the  stairs. 

Upon  reaching  the  yard  below,  I  was  further  consoled 
by  a  sight  of  the  little  deaf  and  dumb  boy.  He  saw  me,  and 
instantly  ran  towards  me  with  a  look  of  unfeigned  delight. 
The  wife  of  the  jailer,  however,  Heaven  knows  why, 
caught  hold  of  the  little  fellow,  and  rudely  thrusting  him 
back,  drove  him  into  the  house.  I  •was  really  vexed ;  and 
yet  the  resolute  little  efforts  he  made  even  then  to  reach 
me,  gave  me  indescribable  pleasure  at  the  moment,  so 
pleasing  it  is  to  find  that  one  is  really  loved.  This  was  a 
day  full  of  great  adventures  for  me  ;  a  few  steps  further  I 
passed  the  window  of  my  old  prison,  now  the  abode  of 
Gioja :  "  How  are  you,  Melchiorre  ?  "  I  exclaimed  as  I 
went  by.  He  raised  his  head,  and  getting  as  near  me  as 
it  WHS  possible,  cried  out,  "  How  do  you  do,  Silvio  ?  "  They 
would  not  let  me  stop  a  single  moment ;  I  passed  through 
the  great  gate,  ascended  a  flight  of  stairs,  which  brought  us 
to  a  large,  well-swept  room,  exactly  over  that  occupied  by 
Gioja.  My  bed  was  brought  after  me,  and  I  was  then  left 
to  myself  by  my  conductors.  My  first  object  was  to 
examine  the  walls ;  I  met  with  several  inscriptions,  some 
written  with  charcoal,  others  in  pencil,  and  a  few  incised 
with  some  sharp  point.  I  remember  there  were  some  very 


40  MY  TEN  YEARS'  IMPRISONMENT. 

pleasing  versos  in  French,  and  I  am  sorry  I  forgot  to , 
commit  them  to  mind.  They  were  signed  "  The  duke  of 
Normandy."  I  tried  to  sing  them,  adapting  to  them,  aa 
well  as  I  could,  the  favourite  air  of  my  poor  Maddalene. 
What  was  my  surprise  to  hear  a  voice,  close  to  me,  reply  in 
the  same  words,  sung  to  another  air.  When  he  had  finished, 
I  cried  out,  "Bravo! "  and  he  saluted  me  with  great  respect, 
inquiring  if  I  were  ,a  Frenchman. 

"  No ;  an  Italian,  and  my  name  is  Silvio  Pellico." 

"  The  author  of  Francesca  da  Itimini  ?  "  * 

"The  same." 

Here  he  made  me  a  fine  compliment,  following  it  with 
the  condolences  usual  on  such  occasions,  upon  hearing  I 
had  been  committed  to  prison.  He  then  inquired  of  what 
part  of  Italy  I  was  a  native.  "  Piedmont,"  was  the  reply  ; 
"  I  am  from  Saluzzo."  Here  I  was  treated  to  another 
compliment,  on  the  character  and  genius  of  the  Pied- 
montese,  in  particular,  the  celebrated  men  of  Saluzzo,  at  the 
head  of  whom  he  ranked  Bodoni.*  All  this  was  said  in  an 
easy  refined  tone,  which  showed  the  man  of  the  world,  and 
one  who  had  received  a  good  education. 

"  Now,  may  I  be  permitted,"  said  I,  "to  inquire  who  you 
are,  sir'r"' 

*  This  excellent  tragedy,  suggested  by  the  celebrated  episode  in 
the  fifth  canto  of  Dante's  Inferno,  was  received  by  the  whole  of 
Italy  with  the  most  marked  applause.  Such  a  production  at  once 
raised  the  young  author  to  a  high  station  hi  the  list  of  Italy's  living 
poets. 

t  The  Cavalier  Giovanni  Bodoui  was  one  of  the  most  distinguished 
among  modern  printers.  Becoming  admirably  skilled  in  his  art,  and 
in  the  oriental  languages,  acquired  in  the  college  of  the  Propaganda 
at  Rome,  he  went  to  the  Royal  Printing  Establishment  at  Parma,  of 
which  he  took  the  direction  in  1813,  and  in  which  he  continued  till 
the  period  of  his  death.  In  the  list  of  the  numerous  works  which 
he  thence  gave  to  the  world  may  be  mentioned  .the  Pafer  Noster 
Poliglotto,  the  Iliad  in  Greek,  the  Epithalamia  Exoticif,  and  the 
lfanna!«  Tipografico,  works  which  will  maintain  their  reputation  to 
fax  distant  times 


MY   TEN   YEARS'   IMPRISONMENT.  41 

"  I  heard  you  singing  one  of  my  little  songs,"  was  the 
reply. 

"  What !  the  two  beautiful  stan/is  upon  the  wall  are 
yours ! " 

"  They  are,  sir." 

"  You  are,  therefore, " 

"  The  unfortunate  duke  of  Normandy." 


CHAPTEK  XIX. 

THE  jailer  at  that  moment  passed  under  our  windows,  and 
ordered  us  to  be  silent. 

What  can  he  mean  by  the  unfortunate  duke  of  Nor- 
mandy ?  thought  I,  musing  to  myself.  Ah !  is  not  that  the 
title  said  to  be  assumed  by  the  son  of  Louis  XVI.  ?  but 
that  unhappy  child  is  indisputably  no  more.  Then  my 
neighbour  must  be  one  of  those  unlucky  adventurers  who 
have  undertaken  to  bring  him  to  life  again.  Not  a  few 
had  already  taken  upon  themselves  to  personate  this 
Louis  XVII.,  and  were  proved  to  be  impostors  ;  how  is  my 
new  acquaintance  entitled  to  greater  credit  for  his  pains  ? 

Although  I  tried  to  give  him  the  advantage  of  a  doubt, 
I  felt  an  insurmountable  incredulity  upon  the  subject, 
which  was  not  subsequently  removed.  At  the  same  time,  I 
determined  not  to  mortify  the  unhappy  man,  whatever 
sort  of  absurdity  he  might  please  to  hazard  before  my 
face. 

A  few  minutes  afterwards  he  began  again  to  sing,  and 
we  soon  renewed  our  conversation.  In  answer  to  my 
inquiry,  "  What  is  your  real  name  ?  "  he  replied,  "  I  am  no 
other  than  Louis  XVII."  And  he  then  launched  into  very 
severe  invectives  against  his  uncle,  Louis  XVIII.,  the 
usurper  of  his  just  and  natural  rights. 

"  But  why,"  said  I,  "  did  you  not  prefer  your  claims  at 
the  period  of  the  restoration  ?  " 


42  MY  TEN  TEAKS'  IMPRISONMENT. 

"I  was  unable,  from  extreme  illness,  to  quit  the  city  of 
Bologna.  The  moment  I  was  better  I  hastened  to  Paris ;  I 
presented  myself  to  the  allied  monarchs,  but  the  work  was 
done.  The  good  Prince  of  Conde  knew,  and  received  me 
with  open  arms,  but  his  friendship  availed  me  not.  One 
evening,  passing  through  a  lonely  street,  I  was  suddenly 
attacked  by  assassins,  and  escaped  with  difficulty.  After 
wandering  through  Normandy,  I  returned  into  Italy,  and 
stopped  some  time  at  Modena.  Thence  I  wrote  to  the 
allied  powers,  in  particular  to  the  Emperor  Alexander,  who 
replied  to  my  letter  with  expressions  of  the  greatest  kind- 
ness. I  did  not  then  despair  of  obtaining  justice,  or,  at  all 
events,  if  my  rights  were  to  he  sacrificed,  of  being  allowed 
a  decent  .provision,  becoming  a  prince.  But  I  was  arrested, 
and  handed  over  to  the  Austrian  government.  During 
eight  months  I  have  been  here  buried  ah' ve,  and  God  knows 
when  I  shall  regain  my  freedom." 

1  begged  him  to  give  me  a  brief  sketch  of  his  life.  He 
told  me  very  minutely  what  I  already  know  relating  to 
Louis  XVII.  and  the  cruel  Simon,  and  of  the  infamous 
calumnies  that  wretch  was  induced  to  utter  respecting  the 
unfortunate  queen,  Sec.  Finally  he  said,  that  while  in 
prison,  some  persons  came  with  an  idiot  boy  of  the  name  of 
Mathurin,  who  was  substituted  for  him,  while  he  himself 
was  carried  off.  A  coach  and  four  was  in  readiness  ;  one  of 
the  horses  was  merely  a  wooden-machine,  in  the  interior  of 
which  he  was  concealed.  Fortunately,  they  reached  the 
confines,  and  the  General  (he  gave  me  the  name,  which  has 
escaped  me)  who  effected  his  release,  educated  him  for  some 
time  with  the  attention  of  a  father,  and  subsequently  sent, 
or  accompanied  him,  to  America.  There  the  young  king, 
without  a  sceptre,  had  room  to  indulge  his  wandering 
disposition  ;  he  was  half  famished  in  the  forests ;  became  at 
length  a  soldier,  and  resided  some  time,  in  good  credit,  at 
the  court  of  the  Bra/ils.  There,  too,  he  was  pursued  and 


MY  TEN  YEARS'  IMPRISONMENT.  43 

persecuted,  till  compelled  to  make  his  escape.  He  returned 
to  Europe  towards  the  close  of  Napoleon's  career,  was  kept 
a  close  prisoner  at  Naples  by  Murat ;  and,  at  last,  when  he 
was  liberated,  and  in  full  preparation  to  reclaim  the  throne 
of  France,  he  was  seized  with  that  unlucky  illness  at 
Bologna,  during  which  Louis  XVIII.  was  permitted  to 
assume  his  nephew's  crown. 


CHAPTER  XX. 

ALL  this  he  related  with  an  air  of  remarkable  frankness 
and  truth.  Although  not  justified  in  believing  him,  I 
nevertheless  was  astonished  at  his  knowledge  of  the  most 
minute  facts  connected  with  the  revolution.  He  spoke  with 
much  natural  fluency,  and  his  conversation  abounded  with 
a  variety  of  curious  anecdotes.  There  was  something  also 
of  the  soldier  in  his  expression,  without  showing  any  want 
of  that  sort  of  elegance  resulting  from  an  intercourse  with 
the  best  society. 

"Will  it  be  permitted  me,"  I  inquired,  "to  converse 
with  you  on  equal  terms,  without  making  use  of  any 
titles?" 

"That  is  what  I  myself  wish  you  to  do,"  was  the  reply. 
"  I  have  at  least  reaped  one  advantage  from  adversity ;  I 
have  learnt  to  smile  at  all  these  vanities.  I  assure  you  that 
I  value  myself  more  upon  being  a  man,  than  having  been 
born  a  prince." 

We  were  in  the  habit  of  conversing  together  both  night 
and  morning,  for  a  considerable  time ;  and,  in.  spite  of 
what  I  considered  the  comic  part  of  his  character,  he 
appeared  to  be  of  a  good  disposition,  frank,  affable,  and 
interested  in  the  virtue  and  happiness  of  mankind.  More 
than  once  I  was  on  the  point  of  saying,  "  Pardon  me ;  I 
wish  I  could  believe  you  were  Louis  XVII. ,  but  I  frankly 
confess  I  cannot  prevail  on  myself  to  believe  it ;  be  equally 


44  MY  TEN  YEARS'  IMPRISONMENT. 

sincere,  I  entreat  you,  and  renounce  this  singular  fiction  of 
yours."  I  had  even  prepared  to  introduce  the  subject  with 
an  edifying  discourse  upon  the  vanity  of  all  imposture, 
even  of  such  untruths  as  may  appear  in  themselves  harm- 
less. 

I  put  off  my  purpose  from  day  to  day ;  I  partly  expected 
that  we  should  grow  still  more  friendly  and  confidential, 
Imt  I  had  never  the  heart  really  to  try  the  experiment  upon 
liis  feelings.  When  I  reflect  upon  this  want  of  resolution, 
I  sometimes  attempt  to  reconcile  myself  to  it  on  the 
ground  of  proper  urbanity,  unwillingness  to  give  offence, 
and  oth'or  reasons  of  the  kind.  Still  these  excuses  are  far 
from  satisfying  me ;  I  cannot  disguise  that  I  ought  not  to 
have  permitted  my  dislike  to  preaching  him  a  sermon  to 
stand  in  the  way  of  speaking  my  real  sentiments.  To 
affect  to  give  credit  to  imposture  of  any  kind  is  miserable 
•weakness,  such  as  I  think  I  should  not,  even  in  similar 
circumstances,  exhibit  again.  At  the  same  time,  it  must 
be  confessed  that,  preface  it  as  you  will,  it  is  a  harsh  thing 
to  say  to  any  one,  "  I  don't  believe  you !  "  He  will 
naturally  resent  it ;  it  would  deprive  us  of  his  friendship  or 
regard :  nay  it  would,  perhaps,  make  him  hate  us.  Yet  it 
is  better  to  run  every  risk  than  to  sanction  an  untruth. 
Possibly,  the  man  capable  of  it,  upon  finding  that  his  im- 
posture is  known,  will  himself  admire  our  sincerity,  and 
afterwards  be  induced  to  reflect  in  a  manner  that  may  pro- 
duce the  best  results. 

The  under-jailers  were  unanimously  of  opinion  that  he 
was  really  Louis  XVII.,  and  having  already  seen  so  many- 
strange  changes  of  fortune,  they  were  not  without  hopes 
that  he  would  some  day  ascend  the  throne  of  France,  and 
remember  the  good  treatment  and  attentions  he  had  met 
with.  With  the  exception  of  assisting  in  his  escape,  they 
made  it  their  object  to  comply  with  all  his  wishes.  It  wa« 
by  such  means  I  had  the  honour  of  forming  an  acquaint- 


MY  TEN  YEARS'  IMPRISONMENT.  45 

ance  with  this  grand  personage.  He  was  of  the  middle 
height,  between  forty  and  forty-five  years  of  age,  rather 
inclined  to  corpulency,  and  had  features  strikingly  like 
those  of  the  Bourbons.  It  is  very  probable  that  this 
accidental  resemblance  may  have  led  him  to  assume  the 
character  he  did,  and  play  so  melancholy  a  part  in  it. 


CHAPTER    XXI. 

THERE  is  one  other  instance  of  unworthy  deference  to 
private  opinion,  of  which  I  must  accuse  myself.  My  neigh- 
bour was  not  an  Atheist,  he  rather  liked  to  converse  on 
religious  topics,  as  if  he  justly  appreciated  the  importance 
of  the  subject,  and  was  no  stranger  to  its  discussion.  Still, 
he  indulged  a  number  of  unreasonable  prejudices  against 
Christianity,  which  he  regarded  less  in  its  real  nature 
than  its  abuses.  The  superficial  philosophy  which  preceded 
the  French  revolution  had  dazzled  him.  He  had  formed  an 
idea  that  religious  worship  might  be  offered  up  with  greater 
purity  than  as  it  had  been  dictated  by  the  religion  of  th& 
Evangelists.  Without  any  intimate  acquaintance  with  the 
writings  of  Condillac  and  Tracy,  he  venerated  them  as  the 
most  profound  thinkers,  and  really  thought  that  the  last 
had  carried  the  branch  of  metaphysics  to  the  highest 
degree  of  perfection. 

I  may  fairly  say  that  my  philosophical  studies  had  been 

better  directed ;  I  was  aware  of  the  weakness  of  the  cxperi- 

inental  doctrine,  and  I  knew  the  gross  and  shameless  errors 

in  point  of  criticism,  which  influenced  the  age  of  Voltaire 

in  libelling  Christianity.     I  had  also  read  Guenee,  and  other 

^ble  expqsers  of   such  false  criticism.     I  felt  a  conviction 

that,  by  no  logical  reasoning,  could  the  being  of  a  God  be 

granted,  and  the  Bible  rejected,  and  I  conceived  it  a  vulgar 

degradation  to  fall   in  with   the   stream   of  antichristian 

opinions,  and  to  want  elevation  of  intellect  to  apprehend  h-  -\v 


46  MY  TEN  YEARS'  IMPRISONMENT. 

the  doctrine  of  Catholicism  in  its  true  character,  is  reli' 
giously  simple  and  ennobling.  Yet  I  had  the  meanness  to 
bow  to  human  opinion  out  of  deference  and  respect.  The 
wit  and  sarcasms  of  my  neighbour  seemed  to  confound  me, 
while  I  could  not  disguise  from  myself  that  they  were  idle 
and  empty  as  the  air.  I  dissimulated,  I  hesitated  to 
announce  my  own  belief,  reflecting  how  far  it  were  season- 
able thus  to  contradict  my  companion,  and  persuading 
myself  that  it  would  be  useless,  and  that  I  was  perfectly 
justified  in  remaining  silent.  What  vile  pusillanimity ! 
why  thus  respect  the  presumptuous  power  of  popular 
errors  and  opinions,  resting  upon  no  foundation.  True  itia 
that  an  ill-timed  zeal  is  always  indiscreet,  and  calculated  to 
irritate  rather  than  convert ;  but  to  avow  with  frankness 
and  modesty  what  we  regard  as  an  important  truth,  to  do  it 
even  when  we  have  reason  to  conclude  it  will  not  be  pala- 
table, and  to  meet  willingly  any  ridicule  or  sarcasm  which 
may  be  launched  against  it ;  this  I  maintain  to  be  an 
actual  duty.  A  noble  avowal  of  this  kind,  moreover,  may 
always  be  made,  without  pretending  to  assume,  uncalled  for, 
anything  of  the  missionary  character. 

It  is,  I  repeat,  a  duty,  not  to  keep  back  an  important 
truth  at  any  period  ;  for  though  there  may  be  little  hope  of 
itt  being  immediately  acknowledged ;  it  may  tend  to  pre- 
pare the  minds  of  others,  and  in  due  time,  doubtless, 
produce  a  better  and  more  impartial  judgment,  and  g  con- 
sequent triumph  of  truth. 


CHAPTER    XXII. 

I  CONTINUED  in  the  same  apartment  during  a  month  and 
eome  days.  On  the  night  of  February  the  18th,  1821,  I 
was  roused  from  sleep  by  a  loud  noise  of  chains  and  keys ; 
several  men  entered  with  a  lantern,  and  the  first  idea  that 
struck  me  was,  that  they  were  come  to  cut  my  throat. 


MY  TEN   YEARS'    IMPRISONMENT.  47 

While  gazing  at  them  in  strange  perplexity,  one  of  the 
figures  advanced  towards  me  with  a  polite  air ;  it  was  Count 

B ,*  who  requested  I  would  dress  myself  as  speedily  as 

possible  to  set  out. 

I  was  surprised  at  this  announcement,  and  even  indulged 
a  hope  that  they  were  sent  to  conduct  me  to  the  confines  of 
Piedmont.  Was  it  likely  the  storm  which  hung  over  me 
would  thus  early  be  dispersed  ?  should  I  again  enjoy  that 
liberty  so  dearly  prized,  be  restored  to  my  beloved  parents, 
and  see  my  brothers  and  sisters  ? 

I  was  allowed  short  time  to  indulge  these  flattering 
hopes.  The  moment  I  had  thrown  on  my  clothes,  I 
followed  my  conductors  without  having  an  opportunity  of 
bidding  farewell  to  my  royal  neighbour.  Yet  I  thought  I 
heard  him  call  my  name,  and  regretted  it  was  out  of  my 
power  to  stop  and  reply.  "Where  are  we  going?"  I  in- 
quired of  the  Count,  as  we  got  into  a  coach,  attended  by  an 
officer  of  the  guard.  "  I  cannot  inform  you  till  we  shall  be 
a  mile  on  the  other  side  the  city  of  Milan."  I  was  aware 
the  coach  was  not  going  in  the  direction  of  the  Vercelline 
gate ;  and  my  hopes  suddenly  vanished.  I  was  silent ;  it 
was  a  beautiful  moonlight  night ;  I  beheld  the  same  well- 
known  paths  I  had  traversed  for  pleasure  so  many  years 
before.  The  houses,  the  churches,  and  every  object  re- 
newed a  thousand  pleasing  recollections.  I  saw  the  Corsia 
of  Porta  Orientale,  I  saw  the  public  gardens,  where  I  had 
so  often  rambled  with  Foscolo,  f  Monti,  £  Lodovico  di 

*  The  Count  Bolza,  of  the  lake  of  Como,  who  has  continued  for 
years  in  the  service  of  the  Austrian  Government,  showing  inexorable 
zeal  in  the  capacity  of  a  Commissary  of  Police. 

t  The  learning  of  Ugo  Foscolo,  and  the  reputation  he  acquired  by 
his  Hymn  upon  the  Tombs,  his  Last  Letters  of  Jacopo  (Mis,  bia 
Treatises  upon  Dante,  Petrarch,  Boccaccio,  Ac.,  are  well-known  in 
this  country,  where  he  spent  a  considerable  portion  of  his  life,  and 
died  in  the  year  1827. 

J  The  Cavalier  Viucenzo  Monti  stands  at  the  head  of  tlie  modern 


48  MY  TEN  YEARS'  IMPRISONMENT. 

Breme,*  Pietro  Boisiari.f  Count  POTTO,  and  his  sons,  with 
many  other  delightful  companions,  conversing  in  all  the  glow 
of  life  and  hope.  How  I  felt  my  friendship  for  these  noble 
men  revive  with  double  force  when  I  thought  of  having 
parted  from  them  for  the  last  time,  disappearing  as  they 
had  done,  one  by  one,  so  rapidly  from  my  view.  When  we 
had  gone  a  little  way  beyond  the  gate,  I  pulled  my  hat 
over  my  eyes,  and  indulged  these  sad  retrospections  un- 
observed. 

After  having  gone  about  a  mile,  I  addressed  myself  to 

Count  B .  "  I  presume  we  are  on  the  road  to  Verona." 

"  Yes,  further,"  was  the  reply ;  "  we  are  for  Venice, 
where  it  is  my  duty  to  hand  you  over  to  a  special  com- 
mission there  appointed." 

We  travelled  post,  stopped  nowhere,  and  on  the  20th  of 
February  arrived  at  my  destination.  The  September  of  the 
year  preceding,  just  one  month  previous  to  my  arrest,  I  had 
been  at  Venice,  and  had  met  a  large  and  delightful  party 
at  dinner,  in  the  Hotel  della  Luna.  Strangely  enough,  I 
was  now  conducted  by  the  Count  and  the  officer  to  the  very 
inn  where  we  had  spent  that  evening  in  social  mirth. 

One  of  the  waiters  started  on  seeing  me,  perceiving  that, 

poets  of  Italy.  His  stanzas  on  the  Death  of  Ugo  Jiasville  obtained 
for  him  the  title  of  Dante  Redivivo.  His  works,  both  in  verse  and 
prose,  are  numerous,  and  generally  acknowledged  to  be  noble 
models  in  their  several  styles.  His  tragedy  of  Aristodemo,  takes 
the  lead  among  the  most  admirable  specimens  of  the  Italian  drama. 
He  died  at  Milan  in  the  year  1829. 

•  Monsignor  Lodovico  di  Breme,  son  of  the  Marquis  of  the  same 
name,  a  Piedmoutese,  an  intimate  friend  of  tlae  celebrated  Madame 
de  Stael,  of  Mons.  Sismoudi,  &c.,  and  a  man  of  elevated  sentiments, 
brilliant  spirit,  high  cultivation,  and  accomplishments. 

t  Don  Pietro  Borsieri,  son  of  a  judge  of  the  Court  of  Appeal  at 
Milan,  of  which,  previous  to  his  receiving  sentence  of  death,  he  was 
one  of  the  state  secretaries.  He  is  the  author  of  several  little 
Works  and  literary  essays,  all  written  with  singular  energy  and 
ohosteness  of  language. 


MY  TEN  YEARS'  IMPRISONMENT.  49 

though  my  conductors  had  assumed  the  dress  of  domestics, 
I  was  no  other  than  a  prisoner  in  their  hands.  I  was 
gratified  at  this  recognition,  heing  persuaded  that  the  man 
would  mention  my  arrival  there  to  more  than  one. 

We  dined,  and  I  was  then  conducted  to  the  palace  of  the 
Doge,  where  the  tribunals  are  now  held.  I  passed  under 
the  well-known  porticoes  of  the  Procuratie,  and  hy  the 
Florian  Hotel,  where  I  had  enjoyed  so  many  pleasant 
evenings  the  last  autumn  ;  but  I  did  not  happen  to  meet  a 
single  acquaintance.  We  went  across  the  piazzetta,  and 
there  it  struck  me  that  the  September  before,  I  had  met  a 
poor  mendicant,  who  addressed  me  in  these  singular 
words : — 

"  I  see,  sir,  you  are  a  stranger,  but  I  cannot  make  out 
why  you,  sir,  and  all  other  strangers,  should  so  much  ad- 
mire this  place  To  me  it  is  a  place  of  misfortune,  and  I 
never  pass  it  when  I  can  avoid  it." 

"  What,  did  you  here  meet  with  some  disaster?" 

"  I  did,  sir ;  a  horrible  one,  sir ;  and  not  only  I.  God 
protect  you  from  it,  God  protect  you  ! "  And  he  took  him- 
self off  in  haste. 

At  this  moment  it  was  impossible  for  me  to  forget  the 
•words  of  the  poor  beggarman.  He  was  present  there,  too, 
the  next  year,  when  I  ascended  the  scaffold,  whence  I 
heard  read  to  me  the  sentence  of  death,  and  that  it  had 
been  commuted  for  fifteen  years  hard  imprisonment.  As- 
suredly, if  I  had  been  inclined  ever  so  little  to  superstition, 
I  ^Quld  have  thought  much  of  the  mendicant,  predicting  to 
pie  with  so  much  energy,  as  he  did,  and  insisting  that  this 
was  a  place  of  misfortune.  As  it  is,  I  have  merely  noted  it 
down  for  a  curious  incident.  We  ascended  the  palace ; 

Count  B spoke  to  the  judges,  then,  handing  me  over 

to  the  jailer,  after  embracing  me  with  much  emotion,  he 
bade  m,e  farewell. 


50  MY  TEN  YEARS'  IMPRISONMENT. 


CHAPTER    XXIII. 

I  FOLLOWED  the  jailer  in  silence.  After  turning  through  a 
number  of  passages,  and  several  large  rooms,  we  arrived  at 
a  small  staircase,  which  brought  us  under  the  Piombi,  those 
notorious  state  prisons,  dating  from  the  time  of  the  Venetian 
republic. 

There  the  jailer  first  registered  my  name,  and  then 
locked  me  up  in  the  room  appointed  for  me.  The 
chambers  called  I  Piombi  consist  of  the  upper  portion 
of  the  Doge's  palace,  and  are  covered  throughout  with 
lead. 

My  room  had  a  large  window  with  enormous  bars,  and 
commanded  a  view  of  the  roof  (also  of  lead),  and  the 
church,  of  St.  Mark.  Beyond  the  church  I  could  discern 
the  end  of  the  Piazza  in  the  distance,  with  an  immense 
number  of  cupolas  and  belfries  on  all  sides.  St.  Mark's 
gigantic  Campanile  was  separated  from  me  only  by  the 
length  of  the  church,  and  I  could  hear  persons  speaking 
from  the  top  of  it  when  they  talked  at  all  loud.  To  the  left 
of  the  church  was  to  be  seen  a  portion  of  the  grand  court 
of  the  palace,  and  one  of  the  chief  entrances.  There  is  a 
public  well  in  that  part  of  the  court,  and  people  were  con- 
tinually in  the  habit  of  going  thither  to  draw  water.  From 
the  lofty  site  of  my  prison  they  appeared  to  me  about  the 
size  of  little  children,  and  I  could  not  at  all  hear  their  con- 
versation, except  when  they  called  out  very  loud.  Indeed, 
I  found  myself  much  more  solitary  than  I  had  been  in  the 
Milanese  prisons. 

During  several  flays  the  mixiety  I  suffered  from  the 
criminal  trial  appointed  by  the  special  commission,  made  me 
rather  melancholy,  and  it  was  increased,  doubtless,  by  that 
painful  feeling  of  deeper  solitude. 

I  was  here,  moreover,  further  removed  from  my  family, 
of  whom  I  heard  no  more.  The  new  faces  that  appeared 


MY  TEN  YEARS'  IMPRISONMENT.  51 

wore  a  gloom  at  once  strange  and  appalling.  Report  had 
gn-utly  exaggerated  the  struggle  of  the  Milanese  and  the 
rest  of  Italy  to  recover  their  independence ;  it  was  doubted 
if  I  were  not  one  of  the  most  desperate  promoters  of  that 
mad  enterprise.  I  found  that  my  name,  as  a  writer,  was 
not  wholly  unknown  to  my  jailer,  to  his  wife,  and  even  his 
daughter,  hesides  two  sons,  and  the  under-jailers,  all  of 
whom,  by  their  manner,  seemed  to  have  an  idea  that  it 
writer  of  tragedies  was  little  better  than  a  kind  of  magician. 
They  looked  grave  and  distant,  yet  as  if  eager  to  learn 
more  of  me,  had  they  dared  to  waive  the  ceremony  of  their 
iron  office. 

In  a  few  days  I  grew  accustomed  to  their  looks,  or 
rather,  I  think,  they  found  I  was  not  so  great  a  necromancer 
as  to  escape  through  the  lead  roofs,  and,  consequently,  as- 
Burned  a  more  conciliating  demeanour.  The  wife  had  most 
of  the  character  that  marks  the  true  jailer ;  she  was  dry  and 
hard,  all  bone,  without  a  particle  of  heart,  about  forty,  and 
incapable  of  feeling,  except  it  were  a  savage  sort  of  instinct 
for  her  offspring.  She  used  to  bring  me  my  coffee,  morning 
and  afternoon,  and  my  water  at  dinner.  She  was  generally 
accompanied  by  her  daughter,  a  girl  of  about  fifteen,  not 
very  pretty,  but  with  mild,  compassionating  looks,  and  her 
two  sons,  from  ten  to  thirteen  years  of  age.  They  always 
went  back  with  their  mother,  but  there  was  a  gentle  look 
and  a  smile  of  love  for  me  upon  their  young  faces  as  she 
closed  the  door,  my  only  company  when  they  were  gone. 
The  jailer  never  came  near  me,  except  to  conduct  me  before 
the  special  commission,  that  terrible  ordeal  for  what  are 
termed  crimes  of  state. 

The  under-jailers,  occupied  with  the  prisons  of  the  police, 
situated  on  a  lower  floor,  where  there  were  numbers  of 
robbers,  seldom  came  near  me.  One  of  these  assistants  was 
an  old  man,  more  than  seventy,  but  still  able  to  discharge 
his  laborious  duties,  and  to  run  up  and  down  the  steps  to 


52  MY  TEN  YEARS'  IMPRISONMENT 

the  different  prisons;  another  was  a  young  man  about 
twenty-five,  more  bent  upon  giving  an  account  of  his  love 
affairs  than  eager  to  devote  himself  to  his  office. 


CHAPTER  XXIV. 

I  HAD  now  [to  confront  the  terrors  of  a  state  trial.  What 
was  my  dread  of  implicating  others  by  my  answers !  What 
difficulty  to  contend  against  so  many  strange  accusations, 
BO  many  suspicions  of  all  kinds !  How  impossible,  almost, 
not  to  become  implicated  by  these  incessant  examinations, 
by  daily  new  arrests,  and  the  imprudence  of  other  parties, 
perhaps  not  known  to  you,  yet  belonging  to  the  same 
movement !  I  have  decided  not  to  speak  on  politics  ;  and  I 
must  suppress  every  detail  connected  with  the  state  trials. 
I  shall  merely  observe  that,  after  being  subjected  for 
successive  hours  to  the  harassing  process,  I  retired  in  a 
frame  of  mind  so  excited,  and  so  enraged,  that  I  should  as- 
suredly have  taken  my  own  life,  had  not  the  voice  of 
religion,  and  the  recollection  of  my  parents  restrained  my 
hand.  I  lost  the  tranquillity  of  mind  I  had  acquired  at 
Milan ;  during  many  days,  I  despaired  of  regaining  it,  and 
I  cannot  even  allude  to  this  interval  without  feelings  of 
horror.  It  was  vain  to  attempt  it,  I  could  not  pray ;  I 
questioned  the  justice  of  God ;  I  cursed  mankind,  and  all 
the  world,  revolving  in  my  mind  all  the  possible  sophisms 
and  satires  I  could  think  of,  respecting  the  hollowness  and 
vanity  of  virtue.  The  disappointed  and  the  exasperated  are 
always  ingenious  in  finding  accusations  against  their  felLiw- 
creatures,  and  even  the  Creator  himself.  Anger  is  of  a 
more  universal  and  injurious  tendency  than  is  generally 
supposed.  As  we  cannot  rage  and  storm  from  morning  till 
night,  and  as  the  most  ferocious  animal  has  necessarily  its 
intervals  of  repose,  these  intervals  in  man  are  greatly  in- 
fluenced by  the  immoral  ohjiracter  of  the  conduct  which 


MY  TEN  YEARS'  IMPRISONMENT.  53 

may  have  preceded  them.  He  appears  to  he  at  peace,  in- 
deed, but  it  is  an  irreligious,  malignant  peace ;  a  savage 
sardonic  smile,  destitute  of  all  charity  or  dignity ;  a  love  of 
confusion,  intoxication,  and  sarcasm. 

In  this  state  I  was  accustomed  to  sing — anything  but 
hymns — with  a  kind  of  mad,  ferocious  joy.  I  spoke  to  all 
who  approached  my  dungeon,  jeering  and  bitter  things ; 
and  I  tried  to  look  upon  the  whole  creation  through  the 
medium  of  that  commonplace  wisdom,  the  wisdom  of  the 
cynics.  This  degrading  period,  on  which  I  hate  to  reflect, 
lasted  happily  only  for  six  or  seven  days,  during  which  my 
Bible  had  become  covered  with  dust.  One  of  the  jailer's 
boys,  thinking  to  please  me,  as  he  cast  his  eye  upon  it,  ob- 
served, "  Since  you  left  off  reading  that  great,  ugly  book, 
you  don't  seem  half  so  melancholy,  sir."  "  Do  you  think 
so?"  said  I.  Taking  the  Bible  in  my  hands,  I  wiped  off 
the  dust,  and  opening  it  hastily,  my  eyes  fell  upon  the 
following  words : — "  And  he  said  unto  his  disciples,  it  must 
needs  be  that  offences  come ;  but  woe  unto  him  by  whom 
they  come  ;  for  better  had  it  been  for  him  that  a  millstone 
•were  hanged  about  his  neck,  and  he  cast  into  the  sea,  than 
that  he  should  offend  one  of  these  little  ones." 

I  was  affected  upon  reading  this  passage,  and  I  felt 
ashamed  when  I  thought  that  this  little  boy  had  perceived, 
from  the  dust  with  which  it  was  covered,  that  I  no  longer 
read  my  Bible,  and  had  even  supposed  that  I  had  acquired 
a  better  temper  by  want  of  attention  to  my  religious  duties, 
and  become  less  wretched  by  forgetting  my  God.  "  You 
little  graceless  fellow,"  I  exclaimed,  though  reproaching 
him  in  a  gentle  tone,  and  grieved  at  having  afforded  him 
a  subject  of  scandal ;  "  this  is  not  a  great,  ugly  book,  and 
for  the  few  days  that  I  have  left  off  reading  it,  I  find  my- 
self much  worse.  If  your  mother  would  let  you  stay  with 
me  a  little  while,  you  would  see  that  I  know  how  to  get  rid 
of  my  ill-humour.  If  you  knew  how  hard  it  was  to  be  in 


64  MY  TEN  YEARS'  IMPRISONMENT. 

good  humour,  when  left  so  long  alone,  and  when  you  hear 
me  singing  and  talking  like  a  madman,  you  would  not  call 
this  a  great  ugly  book." 


CHAPTER  XXV. 

THE  boy  left  me,  and  I  felt  a  sort  of  pleasure  at  having 
taken  the  Bible  again  in  my  hands,  more  especially  at  hav- 
ing owned  I  had  been  worse  for  having  neglected  it.  It 
Boemod  as  if  I  had  made  atonement  to  a  generous  friend 
•whom  I  had  unjustly  offended,  but  had  now  become  reconciled 
to.  Yes  !  I  had  even  forgotten  my  God  !  I  exclaimed,  and 
perverted  my  better  nature.  Could  I  have  been  led  to  be- 
lieve that  the  vile  mockery  of  the  cynic  was  applicable  to 
one  in  my  forlorn  and  desperate  situation  ? 

I  felt  an  indescribable  emotion  on  asking  myself  this 
question ;  I  placed  the  Bible  upon  a  chair,  and,  falling  on 
my  knees,  I  burst  into  tears  of  remorse  :  I  who  ever  found 
it  so  difficult  to  shed  even  a  tear.  These  tears  were  far 
more  delightful  to  me  than  any  physical  enjoyment  I  had 
ever  felt.  I  felt  I  was  restored  to  God,  I  loved  him,  I  re- 
pented of  having  outraged  religion  by  degrading  myself  : 
and  I  made  a  vow  never,  never  more  to  forget,  to'  separate 
myself  from,  my  God. 

How  truly  a  sincere  return  to  faith,  and  love,  and  hope, 
consoles  and  elevates  the  mind.  I  read  and  continued  to 
weep  for  upwards  of  an  hour.  I  rose  with  renewed  confi- 
dence that  God  had  not  abandoned  me,  but  had  forgiven 
my  every  fault  and  folly.  It  was  then  that  my  misfortunes, 
the  horrors  of  my  continued  examinations,  and  the  probable 
death  which  awaited  me,  appeared  of  little  account.  I  re- 
joiced in  suffering,  since  I  was  thus  afforded  an  occasion  to 
perform  some  duty,  and  that,  by  submitting  with  a  resigned 
mind,  I  was  obeying  my  Divine  "Master.  I  was  enabled, 
thanks  be  to  Heaven,  to  read  my  Bible.  I  no  longer  eati- 


MY  TEN  TEAKS'  IMPRISONMENT.  55 

mated  it  by  the  wretched,  critical  subterfuges  of  a  Voltaire, 
heaping  ridicule  upon  mere  expressions,  in  themselves 
neither  false  nor  ridiculous,  except  to  gross  ignorance  or 
malice,  which  cannot  penetrate  their  meaning.  I  became 
clearly  convinced  how  indisputably  it  was  the  code  of  sanc- 
tity, and  hence  of  truth  itself ;  how  really  unphilosophical 
it  was  to  take  offence  at  a  few  little  imperfections  of  style,  not 
less  absurd  than  the  vanity  of  one  who  despises  everything 
that  wears  not  the  gloss  of  elegant  forms  ;  what  still  greater 
absurdity  to  imagine  that  such  a  collection  of  books,  so  long 
held  in  religious  veneration,  should  not  possess  an  authentic 
origin,  boasting,  as  they  do,  such  a  vast  superiority  over  the 
Koran,  and  the  old  theology  of  the  Indies. 

Many,  doubtless,  abused  its  excellence,  many  wished  to 
turn  it  into  a  code  of  injustice,  and  a  sanction  of  all  their  bad 
passions.  But  the  triumphant  answer  to  these  is,  that  every 
thing  is  liable  to  abuse ;  and  when  did  the  abuse  of  the  most 
precious  and  best  of  things  lead  us  to  the  conclusion  that 
they  were  in  their  own  nature  bad  ?  Our  Saviour  himself 
declared  it ;  the  whole  law  and  the  Prophets,  the  entire 
body  of  these  sacred  books,  all  inculcate  the  same  precept 
to  love  God  and  mankind.  And  must  not  such  writings 
embrace  the  truth — truth  adapted  to  all  times  and  ages  ? 
must  they  not  ever  constitute  the  living  word  of  the  Holy 
Spirit  ? 

"Whilst  I  made  these  reflections,  I  renewed  my  intention  of 
identifying  with  religion  all  my  thoughts  concerning  human 
affairs,  all  my  opinions  upon  the  progress  of  civilisation,  my 
philanthropy,  love  of  my  country,  in  short,  all  the  passions 
of  my  mind. 

The  few  days  in  which  I  remained  subjected  to  the 
cynic  doctrine,  did  me  a  deal  of  harm.  I  long  felt 
its  effects,  and  had  great  difficulty  to  remove  them. 
Whenever  man  yields  in  the  least  to  the  temptation 
of  undigiiifying  his  intellect,  to  view  the  works  of 


56  MY  TEN  TEARS'  IMPRISONMENT. 

God  through  the  infernal  medium  of  scorn,  to  abandon 
the  beneficent  exercise  of  prayer,  the  injury  which  he  in- 
flicts upon  his  natural  reason  prepares  him  to  fall  again  with 
but  little  struggle.  For  a  period  of  several  weeks  I  was 
almost  daily  assaulted  with  strong,  bitter  tendencies  to  doubt 
and  disbelief  ;  and  it  culled  for  the  whole  power  of  my  mind 
to  free  myself  from  their  grasp. 


CHAPTER    XXVI. 

WHEN  these  mental  struggles  had  ceased,  and  I  had  again, 
become  habituated  to  reverence  the  Deity  in  all  my  thoughts 
and  feelings,  I  for  some  time  enjoyed  the  most  unbroken 
serenity  and  peace.  The  examinations  to  which  I  was  every 
two  or  three  days  subjected  by  the  special  commission,  how- 
ever tormenting,  produced  no  lasting  anxiety,  as  before.  I 
succeeded  in  this  arduous  position,  in  discharging  all  which 
integrity  and  friendship  required  of  me,  and  left  the  rest  to 
the  will  of  God.  I  now,  too,  resumed  my  utmost  efforts  to 
guard  it  gainst  the  effects  of  any  sudden  surprise,  every  emo- 
tion and  passion,  and  every  imaginable  misfortune  ;  a  kind 
of  preparation  for  future  trials  of  the  greatest  utility. 

My  solitude,  meantime,  grew  more  oppressive.  Two  sons 
of  the  jailer,  whom  I  had  been  in  the  habit  of  seeing  at  brief 
intervals,  were  sent  to  school'  and  I  saw  them  no  more. 
The  mother  and  the  sister,  who  had  been  accustomed,  along 
with  them,  to  speak  to  me,  never  came  near  me,  except  to 
bring  my  coffee.  About  the  mother  I  cared  very  little ; 
but  the  daughter  though  rather  plain,  had  something  so 
pleasing  and  gentle,  both  in  her  words  and  looks,  that  I 
greatly  felt  the  loss  of  them.  Whenever  she  brought  the 
coffee,  and  said,  "  It  was  I  who  made  it,"  I  always  thought 
it  excellent :  but  when  she  observed,  "  This  is  my  mother's 
making,"  it  lost  all  its  relish. 

Being  almost  deprived  of  human  society,  I  one  day  made 


MY   TEN  YEABS'   IMPRISONMENT.  57 

acquaintance  with  some  ants  upon  my  window ;  I  fed  them ; 
they  went  away,  and  ere  long  the  placed  was  thronged 
with  these  little  insects,  as  if  come  by  invitation.  A  spider, 
too,  had  weaved  a  noble  edifice  upon  my  walls,  and  I  often 
gave  him  a  feast  of  gnats  or  flies,  which  were  extremely 
annoying  to  me.  and  which  he  liked  much  better  than  I  did. 
I  got  quite  accustomed  to  the  sight  of  him ;  he  would  run 
over  my  bed,  and'come  and  take  the  precious  morsels  out  of 
my  hand.  "Would  to  heaven  these  had  been  the  only 
insects  which  visited  my  abode.  It  was  still  summer,  and 
the  gnats  had  begun  to  multiply  to  a  prodigious  and  alarm- 
ing extent.  The  previous  winter  had  been  remarkably 
mild,  and  after  the  prevalence  of  the  March  winds  followed 
extreme  heat.  It  is  impossible  to  convey  an  idea  of  the  in- 
sufferable oppression  of  the  air  in  the  place  I  occupied. 
Opposed  directly  to  a  noontide  sun,  under  a  leaden  rooff,  and 
with  a  window  looking  on  the  roof  of  St.  Mark,  casting  a 
tremendous  reflection  of  the  heat,  I  was  nearly  suffocated. 
I  had  never  conceived  an  idea  of  a  punishment  so  intoler- 
able :  add  to  which  the  clouds  of  gnats,  which,  spite  of  my 
utmost  efforts,  covered  every  article  of  furniture  in  the  room, 
till  even  the  walls  and  ceiling  seemed  alive  with  them ;  and 
I  had  some  apprehension  of  being  devoured  alive.  Their 
bites,  moreover,  were  extremely  painful,  and  when  thus 
punctured  from  morning  till  nip-lit,  only  to  undergo  the 
same  operation  from  day  to  day,  and  engaged  the  whole  time 
in  killing  and  slaying,  some  idea  may  be  formed  of  the  state 
both  of  my  body  and  my  mind. 

I  felt  the  full  force  of  such  a  scourge,  yet  was  unable  to 
obtain  a  change  of  dungeon,  till  at  length  I  was  tempted  to 
rid  myself  of  my  life,  and  had  strong  fears  of  running  dis- 
tracted. But,  thanks  be  to  God,  these  thoughts  were  not 
of  long  duration,  and  religion  continued  to  sustain  me.  It 
taught  me  that  man  was  born  to  suffer,  and  to  suffer  with 
courage  :  it  taught  me  to  experience  a  sort  of  pleasure  in  my 


58  MY  TEN  YEARS'  IMPRISONMENT. 

troubles,  to  resist  and  to  vanquish  in  the  battle  appointed 
me  by  Heaven.  The  more  unhappy,  I  said  to  myself,  my 
life  may  become,  the  less  will  I  yield  to  my  fate,  even  though 
I  should  be  condemned  in  the  morning  of  my  life  to  the 
scaffold.  Perhaps,  without  these  preliminary  and  chastening 
trials,  I  might  have  met  death  in  an  unworthy  manner. 
Do  I  know,  moreover,  that  I  possess  those  virtues  and  quali- 
ties which  deserve  prosperity  ;  where  and  what  are  they  ? 
Then,  seriously  examining  into  my  past  conduct,  I  found 
too  little  good  on  which  to  pride  myself ;  the  chief  part  was 
a  tissue  of  vanity,  idolatry,  and  the  mere  exterior  of  vir- 
tue. Unworthy,  therefore,  as  I  am,  let  me  suffer!  If  it  be 
intended  that  men  and  gnats  should  destroy  me,  unjustly 
or  otherwise,  acknowledge  in  them  the  instruments  of  a 
divine  justice,  and  be  silent. 


CHAPTER   XXVII. 

DOES  man  stand  in  need  of  compulsion  before  he  can  be 
brought  to  humble  himself  with  sincerity  ?  to  look  upon 
himself  as  a  sinner  P  Is  it  not  too  true  that  we  in  general 
dissipate  our  youth  in  vanity,  and,  instead  of  employing  all 
our  faculties  in  the  acquisition  of  what  is  good,  make  them 
the  instruments  of  our  degradation  ?  There  are,  doubtless, 
exceptions,  but  I  confess  they  cannot  apply  to  a  wretched 
individual  like  myself.  There  is  no  merit  in  thus  being 
dissatisfied  with  myself;  when  we  see  a  lamp  which  emits 
more  srnoke  than  (lame,  it  requires  no  great  sincerity  to  say 
that  it  docs  not  burn  as  it  ought  to  do. 

Yes,  without  any  degradation,  without  any  scruples  of 
hypocrisy,  and  viewing  myself  with  perfect  tranquillity  of 
mind,  I  perceived  that  I  had  merited  the  chastisement  of 
my  God.  An  internal  monitor  told  me  that  such  chastise- 
ments were,  for  one  fault  or  other,  amply  merited ;  they 
assisted  in  winning  me  back  to  Him  who  is  perfect,  and 


MY  TEN  TEARS'  IMPRISONMENT.  59 

whom  every  human  being,  as  far  as  their  limited  powers 
will  admit,  are  bound  to  imitate.  By  what  right,  while 
constrained  to  condemn  myself  for  innumerable  offences  and 
forgetfulness  towards  God,  could  I  complain,  because  some 
men  appeared  to  me  despicable,  and  others  wicked  ?  What 
if  I  were  deprived  of  all  worldly  advantages,  and  was 
doomed  to  linger  in  prison,  or  to  die  a  violent  death  ?  I 
sought  to  impress  upon  my  mind  reflections  like  these,  at 
once  just  and  applicable ;  and  this  done,  I  found  it  was 
necessary  to  be  consistent,  and  that  it  could  be  effected  in 
no  other  manner  than  by  sanctifying  the  upright  judgments 
of  the  Almighty,  by  loving  them,  and  eradicating. every 
wish  at  all  opposed  to  them.  The  better  to  persevere  in 
my  intention,  I  determined,  in  future,  carefully  to  revolve 
in  my  mind  all  my  opinions,  by  committing  them  to  writing. 
The  difficulty  was  that  the  commission,  while  permitting 
me  to  have  the  use  of  ink  and  paper,  counted  out  the  leaves, 
with  an  express  prohibition  that  I  should  not  destroy  a 
single  one,  and  reserving  the  power  of  examining  in  what 
manner  1  had  employed  them.  To  supply  the  want  of 
paper,  I  had  recourse  to  the  simple  stratagem  of  smoothing 
with  a  piece  of  glass  a  rude  table  which  I  had,  and  upon 
this  I  daily  wrote  my  long  meditations  respecting  the  duties 
of  mankind,  and  especially  of  those  which  applied  to  myself. 
It  is  no  exaggeration  to  say  that  the  hours  so  employed 
were  sometimes  delightful  to  me,  notwithstanding  the  diffi- 
culty of  breathing  I  experienced  from  the  excessive  heat,  to 
say  nothing  of  the  bitterly  painful  wounds,  small  though 
they  were,  of  those  poisonous  gnats.  To  defend  myself  from 
the  countless  numbers  of  these  tormentors,  I  was  compelled, 
in  the  midst  of  suffocation,  to  wrap  my  head  and  my  legs 
in  thick  cloth,  and  not  only  write  with  gloves  on,  but 
to  bandage  my  wrist  to  prevent  the  intruders  creeping  up 
my  sleeves. 

Meditations  like  mine  assumed  somewhat  of  a  biogra- 


60  MY  TEN  YEARS'  IMPRISONMENT. 

phical  character.  I  made  out  an  account  of  all  the  good 
and  the  evil  which  had  grown  up  with  me  from  my  earliest 
youth,  discussing  them  within  myself,  attempting  to 
resolve  every  doubt,  and  arranging,  to  the  best  of  my 
power,  the  various  kinds  of  knowledge  I  had  acquired,  and 
my  ideas  upon  every  subject.  When  the  whole  surface  of 
the  table  was  covered  with  my  lucubrations,  I  perused  and 
re-perused  them,  meditated  on  what  I  had  already  medi- 
tated, and,  at  length,  resolved  (however  unwillingly)  to 
scratch  out  all  I  had  done  with  the  glass,  in  order  to 
have  a  clean  superficies  upon  which  to  recommence  my 
operations. 

From  that  time  I  continued  the  narrative  of  my  experi- 
ence of  good  and  evil,  always  relieved  by  digressions  of 
every  kind,  by  some  analysis  of  this  or  that  point,  whether 
in  metaphysics,  morals,  politics,  or  religion  ;  and  when  the 
whole  was  complete,  I  again  began  to  read,  and  re-read, 
and  lastly,  to  scratch  out.  Being  anxious  to  avoid  every 
chance  of  interruption,  or  of  impediment,  to  my  repeating 
with  the  greatest  possible  freedom  the  facts  I  had  recorded, 
and  my  opinions  upon  them,  I  took  care  to  transpose  and 
abbreviate  the  words  in  such  a  manner  as  to  run  no  risk 
from  the  most  inquisitorial  visit.  No  search,  however, 
was  made,  and  no  one  was  aware  that  I  was  spending  my 
miserable  prison-hours  to  so  good  a  purpose.  Whenever 
I  heard  the  jailer  or  other  person  open  the  door  I 
cpvered  my  little  table  with  a  cloth,  and  placed  upon  it 
the  ink-stand,  with  the  lawful  quantity  of  state  paper  by 
its  side. 

CHAPTER   XXVIII. 

STILL  I  did  not  wholly  neglect  the  paper  put  into  my 
hands,  and  sometimes  even  devoted  an  entire  day  or  night 
to  writing.  But  here  I  only  treated  of  literary  matters. 
I  composed  at  that  time  the  Ester  cCEngaddi,  the  Iginia 


MT  TEN  TEARS'  IMPRISONMENT.  61 


i,  and  the  Cantichi,  entitled,  Tancreda  Rosilde,  Eligi 
and  Talafrido,  Adello,  besides  several  sketches  of  tragedies, 
and  other  productions,  in  the  list  of  which  was  a  poem 
upon  the  Lombard  League,  and  another  upon  Christopher 
Columbus. 

As  it  was  not  always  so  easy  an  affair  to  get  a  reinforce- 
ment of  paper,  I  was  in  the  hahit  of  committing  my  rough 
draughts  to  my  table,  or  the  wrapping-paper  In  which  I 
received  fruit  and  other  articles.  At  times  I  would  give 
away  my  dinner  to  the  under-jailer,  telling  him  that  I  had 
no  appetite,  and  then  requesting  from  him  the  favour  of 
a  sheet  of  paper.  This  was,  however,  only  in  certain 
exigencies,  when  my  little  table  was  full  of  writing,  and  I 
had  not  yet  determined  on  clearing  it  away.  I  was  often 
vi  ry  hungry,  and  though  the  jailer  had  money  of  mine  in 
his  possession,  I  did  not  ask  him  to  bring  me  anything  to 
cat,  partly  lest  he  should  suspect  I  had  given  away  my 
dinner,  and  partly  that  the  under-jailer  might  not  find  out 
that  I  had  said  the  thing  which  was  not  when  I  assured 
him  of  my  loss  of  appetite?  In  the  evening  I  regaled 
-  myself  with  some  strong  coffee,  and  I  entreated  that  it 
might  be  made  by  the  little  sioa,  Zanze.*  This  was  the 
jailer's  daughter,  who,  if  she  could  escape  the  lynx-eye  of 
her  sour  mamma,  was  good  enough  to  make  it  exceedingly 
good  ;  so  good,  indeed,  that,  what  with  the  emptiness  of  my 
stomach,  it  produced  a  kind  of  convulsion,  which  kept  me 
awake  the  whole  of  the  night. 

In  this  state  of  gentle  inebriation,  I  felt  my  intellectual 
faculties  strangely  invigorated  ;  wrote  poetry,  philo- 
sophised, and  prayed  till  morning  with  feelings  of  real 
pleasure.  I  then  became  completely  exhausted,  threw 
myself  upon'  my  bed,  and,  spite  of  the  gnats  that  were  con- 
tinually sucking  my  blood,  I  slept  an  hour  or  two  in  pro- 
found rest. 

*  La  Signora  Angiola. 


62  MY  TEN  TEAKS'  IMPBISONMENT. 

I  can  hardly  describe  the  peculiar  and  pleasing  exalta- 
tion of  mind  which  continued  for  nights  together,  and  I  left 
no  means  untried  to  secure  the  same  means  of  continuing 
it.  With  this  view  I  still  refused  to  touch  a  mouthful  of 
dinner,  even  when  I  was  in  no  want  of  paper,  merely  in 
order  to  obtain  my  magic  beverage  for  the  evening. 

How  fortunate  I  thought  myself  whenJI  succeeded ;  not 
unfrequently  the  coffee  was  not  made  by  the  gentle 
Angiola ;  and  it  was  always  vile  stuff  from  her  mother's 
hands.  In  this  last  case,  I  was  sadly  put  out  of  humour, 
for  instead  of  the  electrical  effect  on  my  nerves,  it  made  me 
wretched,  weak,  and  hungry ;  I  threw  myself  down  to  sleep, 
but  was  unable  to  close  an  eye.  Upon  these  occasions  I 
complained  bitterly  to  Angiola,  the  jailer's  daughter,  and 
one  day,  as  if  she  had  been  in  fault,  I  scolded  her  so 
sharply  that,  the  poor  girl  began  tp  weep,  sobbing  out, 
"  Indeed,  sir,  I  never  deceived  anybody,  and  yet  everybody 
calls  me  a  deceitful  little  minx." 

"  Everybody !  Oh  then,  1^  see  I  am  not  the  only  one 
driven  to  distraction  by  your  vile  slops." 

"  I  do  not  mean  to  say  that,  sir.  Ah,  if  'you  only  knew ; 
if  I  dared  to  tell  you  all  that  my  poor,  wretched  heart " 

"  Well,  don't  cry  so !  What  is  all  this  ado  ?  I  beg 
your  pardon,  you  see,  if  I  scolded  you.  Indeed,  I  believe 
you  would  not,  you  could  not,  make  me  such  vile  stuff  as 
this." 

"  Dear  me  !  I  am  not  crying  about  that,  sir." 

"  You  are  not !  "  and  I  felt  my  self-love  not  a  little  mor- 
tified, though  I  forced  a  smile.  "  Are  you  crying,  then, 
because  I  scolded  you,  and  yet  not  about  the  coffee  'i  " 

"  Yes,  indeed,  sir  ?  " 

"  Ah  !  then  who  called  you  a  little  deceitful  one  before  ?  " 

"He  did,  sir." 

"  He  did  ;  and  who  is  he  ?  " 

"  My  lover,  sir  ;  "  and  she  hid  her  face  in  her  little  hands. 


MY  TEN  TEARS'  IMPRISONMENT.  63 

Afterwards  she  ingenuously  intrusted  to  my  keeping,  and  I 
could  not  well  betray  her,  a  little  serio-comic  sort  of  pas- 
toral romance,  which  really  interested  me. 


CHAPTER  XXIX. 

FROM  that  day  forth,  I  know  not  why,  I  became  the 
adviser  and  confidant  of  this  young  girl,  who  returned  and 
conversed  with  me  for  hours.  She  at  first  said,  "  You  are 
so  good,  sir,  that  I  feel  just  the  same  when  I  am  here  as  if 
I  were  your  own  daughter." 

"  That  is  a  very  poor  compliment,"  replied  I,  dropping 
her  hand  ;  "I  am  hardly  yet  thirty- two,  and  you  look  upon 
me  as  if  I  were  an  old  father." 

"  No,  no,  not  so ;  I  mean  as  a  brother,  to  be  sure ; "  and 
she  insisted  upon  taking  hold  of  my  hand  with  an  air  of  the 
most  innocent  confidence  and  affection. 

I  am  glad,  thought  I  to  myself,  that  you  are  no  beauty  ; 
else,  alas,  this  innocent  sort  of  fooling  might  chance  to  dis- 
concert me ;  at  other  times  I  thought  it  is  lucky,  too, 
she  is  so  young,  there  could  never  be  any  danger  of 
becoming  attached  to  girls  of  her  years.  At  other  times, 
however,  I  felt  a  little  uneasy,  thinking  I  was  mistaken  in 
having  pronounced  her  rather  plain,  whereas  her  whole 
shape  and  features  were  by  no  means  wanting  in  propor- 
tion or  expression.  If  she  were  not  quite  so  pale,  I  said, 
and  her  face  free  from  those  marks,  she  might  really  pass 
for  a  beauty.  It  is  impossible,  in  fact,  not  to  find  some 
charm  in  the  presence  and  in  the  looks  and  voice  of  a 
young  girl  full  of  vivacity  and  affection.  I  had  taken  not 
the  least  pains  to  acquire  her  good- will;  yet  was  I  as 
dear  to  either  the  as  a  father  or  a  brother,  whichever  title  I 
preferred.  And  why  ?  Only  because  she  had  read  Francesco, 
da  Rimini  and  Eufetnio,  and  my  poems,  she  said,  had  made 


64  MY  TEN  TEARS'  IMPRISONMENT. 

her  weep  so  often ;  then,  besides,  I  was  a  solitary  pri- 
soner, without  having,  as  she  observed,  either  robbed  or 
murdered  anybody. 

In  short,  when  I  had  become  attached  to  poor  Maddalene, 
without  once  seeing  her,  how  was  it  likely  that  I  could 
remain  indifferent  to  the  sisterly  assiduity  and  attentions, 
to  the  thousand  pleasing  little  compliments,  and  to  the 
most  delicious  cups  of  coffee  of  this  young  Venice  girl,  my 
gentle  little  jailer  ?  *  I  should  be  trying  to  impose  on 
myself,  were  I  to  attribute  to  my  own  prudence  the  fact  of 
»y  not  having  fallen  in  love  with  Angiola.  I  did  not  do 
so,  simply  from  the  circumstance  of  her  having  already  a 
lover  of  her  own  choosing,  to  whom  she  was  desperately, 
unalterably  attached.  Heaven  help  me !  if  it  had  not  been 
thus  I  'should  have  found  myself  in  a  very  critical  position, 
indeed,  for  an  author,  with  so  little  to  keep  alive  his  atten- 
tion. The  sentiment  I  felt  for  her  was  not,  then,  what  is 
called  love.  I  wished  to  see  her  happy,  and  that  she  might 
be  united  to  the  lover  of  her  choice  ;  I  was  not  jealous,  nor 
had  I  the  remotest  idea  she  could  ever  select  me  as  the 
object  of  her  regard.  Still,  when  I  heard  my  prison-door 
open,  my  heart  began  to  beat  in  the  hope  it  was  my 
Angiola ;  and  if  she  appeared  not,  I  experienced  a  peculiar 
kind  of  vexation ;  whon  she  really  came  my  heart  throbbed 
yet  more  violently,  from  a  feeling  of  pure  joy.  Her 
parents,  who  had  begun  to  entertain  a  good  opinion  of  me, 
and  were  aware  of  her  passionate  regard  for  another, 
offered  no  opposition  to  the  visits  she  thus  made  mo,  per- 
mitting her  almost  invariably  to  bring  me  my  coffee  in  a 
morning,  and  not  unfrequently  in  the  evening. 

There  was  altogether  a  simplicity  and  an  affectionatenesa 

in  her  every  word,   look,  and  gesture,  which  were  really 

captivating.     She  would  say,  "I  am  excessively  attached  to 

another,  and  yet  I  take  such  delight  in  being  near  you  I 

•  "  Yeviezianiua  adolosceute  sbirra  ?  " 


MY  TEN  YEARS'  IMPRISONMENT.  65 

When  I  am  not  in  h is  company,  I  like  being  nowhere  so 
well  as  here."  (Here  was  another  compliment.) 

"  And  don't  you  know  why  ?  "  inquired  I. 

"  I  do  not." 

"  I  will  tell  you,  then.  It  is  because  I  permit  you  to 
talk  about  your  lover." 

"  That  is  a  good  guess ;  yet  still  I  think  it  is  a  good  deal 
because  I  esteem  you  so  very  m  ich !  " 

Poor  girl !  along  with  this  pretty  frankness  she  had  that 
blessed  sin  of  taking  me  always  by  the  hand,  and  pressing  it 
with  all  her  heart,  not  perceiving  that  she  at  once  pleased 
and  disconcerted  me  by  her  affectionate  manner.  Thanka 
be  to  Heaven,  that  I  can  always  recall  this  excellent  little 
gii-1  to  mind  without  the  least  tinge  of  remorse. 


CHAPTER    XXX. 

THE  following  portion  of  my  narrative  would  assuredly 
have  been  more  interesting  had  the  gentle  Angiola  fallen  in 
love  with  me,  or  if  I  had  at  least  run  half  mad  to  enliven 
my  solitude.  There  was,  however,  another  sentiment,  that 
of  simple  benevolence,  no  less  dear  to  me,  which  united  our 
hearts  in  one.  And  if,  at  any  moment,  I  felt  there  was  the 
least  risk  of  its  changing  its  nature  in  my  vain,  weak  heart, 
it  produced  only  sincere  regret. 

Once,  certainly,  having  my  doubts  that  this  would 
happen,  and  finding  her,  to  my  sorrow,  a  hundred  times 
more  beautiful  than  I  had  at  first  imagined  ;  feeling  too  so 
very  melancholy  when  she  was  absent,  so  joyous  when  near, 
I  took  upon  myself  to  play  the  unamiable,  in  the  idea  that 
this  would  remove  all  danger  by  making  her  leave  off  the 
same  affectionate  and  familiar  manner.  This  innocent 
stratagem  was  tried  in  vain ;  the  poor  girl  was  so  patient, 
so  full  of  compassion  for  mo.  She  would  look  at  me  in 
silence,  with  her  elbow  resting  upon  the  window,  and 
c 


66  MY  TEN  YEARS'  IMPBISONMENT. 

say,  after  a  long  pause,  "  I  see,  sir,  you  are  tired  of  my 
company,  yet  /  would  stay  here  the  whole  day  if  I  could, 
merely  to  keep  the  hours  from  hanging  so  heavy  upon  you. 
This  ill-humour  of  yours  is  the  natural  effect  of  your  long 
solitude ;  if  you  were  able  to  chat  awhile,  you  would  he 
quite  well  again.  If  you  don't  like  to  talk,  I  will  talk  for 
you." 

"  About  your  lover,  eh  ?  " 

"  No,  no ;  not  always  about  him ;  I  can  talk  of  many 
things." 

She  then  began  to  give  me  some  extracts  from  the  house- 
hold annals,  dwelling  upon  the  sharp  temper  of  her  mother, 
her  good-natured  father,  and  the  monkey-tricks  of  her 
little  brothers ;  and  she  told  all  this  with  a  simple  grace 
and  innocent  frankness  not  a  little  alluring.  Yet  I  was 
pretty  near  the  truth ;  for,  without  being  aware  of  it,  she 
uniformly  concluded  with  the  one  favourite  theme:  her 
ill-starred  love.  Still  I  went  on  acting  the  part  of  the 
unamiable,  in  the  hope  that  she  would  take  a  spite  against 
me.  But  whether  from  inadvertency  or  design,  she  would 
not  take  the  hint,  and  I  was  at  last  fairly  compelled  to  give 
up  by  sitting  down  contented  to  let  her  have  her  way, 
smiling,  sympathising  with,  and  thanking  her  for  the 
sweet  patience  with  which  she  had  so  long  borne  with 
me. 

I  no  longer  indulged  the  ungracious  idea  of  spiting 
her  against  me,  and,  by  degrees,  all  my  other  fears  were 
allayed.  Assuredly  I  had  not  been  smitten;  I  long 
examined  into  the  nature  of  my  scruples,  wrote  down  my 
reflections  upon  the  subject,  and  derived  no  little  advantage 
from  the  process. 

Man  often  terrifies  himself  with  mere  bugbears  of  the 
mind.  If  we  would  learn  not  to  fear  them,  we  have  only 
to  examine  them  a  little  more  nearly  and  attentively. 
What  harm,  then,  if  I  looked  forward  to  her  viaits  to  me 


MY  TEN  YEARS'  IMPRISONMENT.  67 

with,  a  tender  anxiety,  if  I  appreciated  their  sweetness,  if  it 
did  me  good  to  be  compassioned  by  her,  and  to  interchange 
all  our  thoughts  and  feelings,  unsullied,  I  will  say,  as  those 
of  childhood.  Even  her  most  affectionate  looks,  and  smiles, 
and  pressures  of  the  hand,  while  they  agitated  me,  pro- 
duced a  feeling  of  salutary  respect  mingled  with  compassion. 
One  evening,  I  remember,  when  suffering  under  a  sad  mis- 
fortune, the  poor  girl  threw  her  arms  round  my  neck,  and 
wept  as  if  her  heart  would  break.  She  had  not  the  least 
idea  of  impropriety ;  no  daughter  could  embrace  a  father 
with  more  perfect  innocence  and  unsuspecting  affection.  *  I 
could  not,  however,  reflect  upon  that  embrace  without 
feeling  somewhat  agitated.  It  often  recurred  to  my 
imagination,  and  I  could  then  think  of  no  other  subject. 
On  another  occasion,  when  she  thus  threw  herself  upon  my 
confidence,  I  was  really  obliged  to  disentangle  myself  from 
her  dear  arms,  ere  I  once  pressed  her  to  my  bosom,  or  gave 
her  a  single  kiss,  while  I  stammered  out,  "  I  pray  you,  now, 
sweet  Angiola,  do  not  embrace  me  ever  again ;  it  is  not 
quite  proper."  She  fixed  her  eyes  upon  me  for  a  moment, 
then  cast  them  down,  while  a  blush  suffused  her  ingenuous 
countenance ;  and  I  am  sure  it  was  the  first  time  that  she 
read  in  my  mind  even  the  possibility  of  any  weakness  of 
mine  in  reference  to  her.  Still  she  did  no't  cease  to  continue 
her  visits  upon  the  same  friendly  footing,  with  a  little 
more  reserve  and  respect,  such  as  I  wished  it  to  be ;  and  I 
was  grateful  to  her  for  it. 


CHAPTER    XXXI. 

I  AM  unable  to  form  an  estimate  of  the  evils  which  afflict 
others ;  but,  as  respects  myself,  I  am  bound  to  confess  that, 
after  close  examination,  I  found  that  no  sufferings  had 
been  appointed  me,  except  to  some  wise  end,  and  for  my 
own  advantage.  It  -was  thus  even  with  the  excessive  heat 


68  MT  TEN  YEARS'  IMPRISONMENT. 

which  oppressed,  and  the  gnats  which  tormented  me. 
Often  have  I  reflected  that  hut  for  this  continual  suffering 
I  might  not  have  successfully  resisted  the  temptation  of 
falling  in  love,  situated  as  I  was,  and  with  one  whose 
extremely  affectionate  and  ardent  feelings  would  have 
made  it  difficult  always  to  preserve  it  within  respectful 
limits.  If  I  had  sometimes  reason  to  tremhle,  how  should 
I  have  heen  enabled  to  regulate  my  vain  imagination  in  an 
atmosphere  somewhat  inspiring,  and  open  to  the  breathings 
of  joy. 

Considering  the  imprudence  of  Angiola's  parents,  who 
reposed  such  confidence  in  me,  the  imprudence  of  the  poor 
girl  herself,  who  had  not  an  idea  of  giving  rise  to  any 
culpable  affection  on  my  part,  and  considering,  too,  the  little 
steadfastness  of  my  virtue,  there  can  be  little  doubt  but  the 
suffocating  heat  of  my  great  oven,  and  the  cruel  warfare  of 
the  gnats,  were  effectual  safeguards  to  us  both. 

Such  a  reflection  reconciled  me  somewhat  to  these 
scourges;  and  I  then  asked  myself,  Would  you  consent  to 
become  free,  and  to  take  possession  of  some  handsome 
apartment,  filled  with  flowers  and  fresh  air,  on  condition  of 
never  more  seeing  this  affectionate  being?  I  will  own 
the  truth ;  I  had  not  courage  to  reply  to  this  simple 
question. 

When  you  really  feel  interested  about  any  one,  it  is 
indescribable  what  mere  trifles  are  capable  of  conferring 
pleasure.  A  single  word,  a  smile,  a  tear,  a  Venetian  turn 
of  expression,  her  eagerness  in  protecting  me  from  my 
enemies,  the  gnats,  all  inspired  mo  with  a  childish  delight 
that  lasted  the  whole  day.  What  ulost  gratified  me  was  to 
see  that  her  own  sufferings  seemed  to  be  relieved  by 
conversing  with  me,  that  my  compassion  consoled  her,  that 
my  advice  influenced  her,  and  that  her  heart  was  susceptible 
of  the  warmest  devotion  when  treating  of  virtue  and  its 
great  Author. 


MY  TEN  YEARS'  IMPRISONMENT.  69 

When  we  had  sometimes  discussed  the  subject  of  religion, 
she  would  observe,  "  I  find  that  I  can  now  pray  with  more 
willingness  and  more  faith  than  I  did."  At  other  times, 
suddenly  breaking  off  some  frivolous  topic,  she  took  the 
Bible,  opened  it,  pressed  her  lips  to  it,  and  then  begged  of 
me  to  translate  some  passages,  and  give  my  comments.  She 
added,  "  I  could  wish  that  every  time  you  happen  to  recur 
to  this  passage  you  should  call  to  mind  that  I  have  kissed 
and  kissed  it  again." 

It  was  not  always,  indeed,  that  her  kisses  fell  so  appro- 
priately, more  especially  if  she  happened  to  open  at  the 
spiritual  songs.  Then,  in  order  to  spare  her  blushes,  I  took 
advantage  of  her  want  of  acquaintance  with  the  Latin,  and 
gave  a  turn  to  the  expressions  which,  without  detracting 
from  the  sacredness  of  the  Bible,  might  serve  to  respect  her 
innocence.  On  such  occasions  I  never  once  permitted  myself 
to  smile;  at  the  same  time  I  was  not  a  little  perplexed, 
when,  not  rightly  comprehending  my  new  version,  she 
entreated  of  me  to  translate  the  whole,  word  for  word,  and 
would  by  no  means  let  me  shy  the  question  by  turning  her 
attention  to  something  else. 


CHAPTER  XXXTI. 

NOTHING  is  durable  here  below !  Poor  Angiola  fell  sick ;  and 
on  one  of  the  first  days  when  she  felt  indisposed,  she  came 
to  see  me,  complaining  bitterly  of  pains  in  her  head.  She 
wept,  too,  and  would  not  explain  the  cause  of  her  grief. 
She  only  murmured  something  that  looked  like  reproaches 
of  her  lover.  "  He  ia  a  villain ! "  she  said ;  "  but  God 
forgive  him,  as  I  do ! " 

I  left  no  means  untried  to  obtain  her  confidence,  but  it 
was  the  first  time  I  was  quite  unable  to  ascertain  why  she 
distressed  herself  to  such  an  excess.  "I  will  return  to- 
morrow morning,"  she  said,  one  evening  on  parting  from 


70  MY  TEN  YEARS'  IMPRISONMENT. 

me ;  "  I  will,  indeed."  But  the  next  morning  came,  and  my 
coft'ee  was  brought  by  her  mother ;  the  next,  and  the  next, 
by  the  under-jailers ;  and  Angiola  continued  grievously  ill. 
The  under-jailers,  also,  brought  me  very  unpleasant  tidings 
relating  to  the  love-affair ;  tidings,  in  short,  which  made  me 
deeply  sympathize  with  her  sufferings.  A  case  of  seduction ! 
But,  perhaps,  it  was  the  tale  of  calumny.  Alas !  I  but  too 
well  believed  it,  and  I  was  affected  at  it  more  than  I  can 
express ;  though  I  still  like  to  flatter  myself  that  it  was 
false.  After  upwards  of  a  month's  illness,  the  poor  girl  was 
taken  into  the  country,  and  I  saw  her  no  more. 

It  is  astonishing  how  deeply  I  felt  this  deprivation,  and 
how  much  more  horrible  my  solitude  now  appeared.  Still 
more  bitter  was  the  reflection  that  she,  who  had  so  tenderly 
fed,  and  watched,  and  visited  me  in  my  sad  prison,  supply- 
ing every  want  and  wish  within  her  power,  was  herself  a 
prey  to  sorrow  and  misfortune.  Alas !  I  could  make  her  no 
return;  yet,  surely  she  will  feel  aware  how  truly  I 
sympathize  with  her;  that  there  is  no  effort  I  would  not 
make  to  afford  her  comfort  and  relief,  and  that  I  shall  never 
cease  to  offer  up  my  prayers  for  her,  and  to  bless  her  for 
her  goodness  to  a  wretched  prisoner. 

Though  her  visits  had  been  too  brief,  they  were  enough 
to  break  upon  the  horrid  monotony  of  my  solitude.  By 
suggesting  and  comparing  our  ideas,  I  obtained  new  views 
and  feelings,  exercised  some  of  the  best  and  sweetest  affec- 
tions, gave  a  zest  to  life,  and  even  threw  a  sort  of  lustre 
round  my  misfortunes. 

Suddenly  the  vision  fled,  and  my  dungeon  became  to  me 
really  like  a  living  tomb.  A  strange  sadness  for  many  days 
quite  oppressed  me.  I  could  not  even  write :  it  was  a  dark, 
quiet,  nameless  feeling,  in  no  way  partaking  of  the  violence 
and  irritation  which  I  had  before  experienced.  Was  it  that 
I  had  become  more  inured  to  adversity,  more  philosophical, 
more  of  a  Christian  ?  Or  was  it  really  that  the  extremely 


MY   TEN   YEAES'   IMPRISONMENT.  71 

enervating  heat  of  my  dungeon  had  so  prostrated  my  powers 
that  I  could  no  longer  feel  the  pangs  of  excessive  grief. 
Ah,  no !  for  I  can  well  recollect  that  I  then  felt  it  to  my 
inmost  soul ;  and,  perhaps,  more  intensely  from  the  want 
both  of  will  and  power  to  give  vent  to  it  by  agitation, 
maledictions,  and  cries.  The  fact  is,  I  believe,  that  I  had 
been  severely  schooled  by  my  past  sufferings,  and  was 
resigned  to  the  will  of  God.  I  had  so  often  maintained  that 
it  was  a  mark  of  cowardice  to  complain,  that,  at  length,  1 
succeeded  in  restraining  my  passion,  when  on  the  point  of 
breaking  out,  and  felt  vexed  that  I  had  permitted  it  to 
obtain  any  ascendancy  over  me. 

My  mental  faculties  were  strengthened  by  the  habit  of 
writing  down  my  thoughts ;  I  got  rid  of  all  my  vanity,  and 
reduced  the  chief  part  of  my  reasonings  to  the  following 
conclusions:  There  is  a  God:  THEREFORE  unerring  justice; 
THEREFORE  all  that  happens  is  ordained  to  the  best  end; 
consequently,  the  sufferings  of  man  on  earth  are  inflicted 
for  the  good  of  man. 

Thus,  my  acquaintance  with  Angiola  had  proved  bene- 
ficial, by  soothing  and  conciliating  my  feelings.  Her  good 
opinion  of  me  had  urged  me  to  the  fulfilment  of  many 
duties,  especially  of  that  of  proving  one's  self  superior  to 
the  shocks  of  fortune,  and  of  suffering  in  patience.  By 
exerting  myself  to  persevere  for  about  a  month,  I  was 
enabled  to  feel  perfectly  resigned. 

Angiola  had  beheld  me  two  or  three  times  in  a  downright 
passion ;  once,  as  I  have  stated,  on  account  of  her  having- 
brought  me  bad  coffee,  and  a  second  time  as  follows : — 

Every  two  or  three  weeks  the  jailer  had  brought  me  a, 
letter  from  some  of  my  family.  It  was  previously  submitted 
to  the  Commission,  and  most  roughly  handled,  as  was  too 
evident  by  the  number  of  erasures  in  the  blackest  ink  which 
appeared  throughout.  One  day,  however,  instead  of  merely 
striking  out  a  few  passages,  they  drew  the  black  line  over 


72  MY  TEN  TEAKS'  IMPBISONMENT. 

•the  entire  letter,  with  the  exception  of  the  words,  "  MY 
DEAREST  SILVIO,"  at  the  beginning,  and  the  parting  salutation 
at  the  close,  "All  unite  in  kindest  love  to  you." 

This  act  threw  me  into  such  an  uncontrollable  fit  of 
passion,  that,  in  presence  of  the  gentle  Angiola,  I  broke  out 
into  violent  shouts  of  rage,  and  cursed  I  know  not  whom. 
The  poor  girl  pitied  me  from  her  heart ;  but,  at  the  same 
time,  reminded  me  of  the  strange  inconsistency  of  my 
principles.  I  saw  she  had  reason  on  her  side,  and  I  ceased 
from  uttering  my  maledictions. 


CHAPTER  XXXIH. 

OXE  of  the  under-jailers  one  day  entered  my  prison  with  a 
mysterious  look,  and  said,  "  Sometime,  I  believe,  that  Siora 
Ziuizo  (Angiola)  .  .  .  was  used  to  bring  you  youi 
coffee.  .  .  .  She  stopped  a  good  while  to  converse  with 
you,  and  I  was  afraid  the  cunning  one  would  worm  out  all 
your  secrets,  sir." 

"  Not  one,"  I  replied,  in  great  anger ;  "  or  if  I  had  any, 
I  should  not  be  such  a  fool  as  to  toll  them  in  that  way.  Go 
on." 

"  Beg  pardon,  sir ;  far  from  me  to  call  you  by  such  a 
name.  .  .  .  But  I  never  trusted  to  that  Siora  Zanze. 
And  now,  sir,  as  you  have  no  longer  any  one  to  keep  you 
.compnny.  ...  I  trust  I " 

"  What,  what !  explain  yourself  at  once ! " 

•"  Swear  first  that  you  will  not  betray  me.'' 

•"  Well,  well ;  I  could  do  that  with  a  safe  conscience.  I 
never  betrayed  any  one." 

"  Do  you  say  really  you  will  swear  ?  " 

"  Yes ;  I  swear  not  to  betray  you.  But  what  a  wretch  to 
doubt  it;  for  any  one  capable  of  betraying  you  will  not 
scruple  to  violate  an  oath." 

He  tocflt  a  letter  from  his  coat-lining,  and  gave  it  me  with 


MY  TEN  YEARS'  IMPRISONMENT.  73 

a  trembling  hand,  beseeching  I  would  destroy  it  the  moment 
I  had  read  it." 

"  Stop,"  I  cried,  opening  it;  "I  will  read  and  destroy  it 
while  you  are  here." 

"  But,  sir,  you  must  answer  it,  and  I  cannot  stop  now. 
Do  it  at  your  leisure.  Only  take  heed,  when  you  hear  any 
one  coming,  you  will  know  if  it  be  I  by  my  singing,  pretty 
loudly,  the  tune,  Sognai  mi  gera  un  gato.  You  need,  then, 
fear  nothing,  and  may  keep  the  letter  quietly  in  your 
pocket.  But  should  you  not  hear  this  song,  set  it  down  for 
a  mark  that  it  cannot  be  me,  or  that  some  one  is  with  me. 
Then,  iu  a  moment,  out  with  it,  don't  trust  to  any  conceal- 
ment, in  case  of  a  search ;  out  with  it.  tear  it  into  a  thousand 
bits,  and  throw  it  through  the  window." 

"Depend  upon  me;  I  see  you  are  prudent,  I  will  be  so 
too." 

"Yet  you  called  me  a  stupid  wretch." 

"  You  do  right  to  reproach  me,"  I  replied,  shaking  him 
by  the  hand,  "and  I  beg  your  pardon."  He  went  awayf 
and  I  began  to  read : — 

"I  am  (and  here  followed  the  name)  one  of  your  ad- 
mirers :  I  have  all  your  Francesca  da  Jtimini  by  heart.  They 
arrested  me  for— (and  here  he  gave  the  reason  with  the  date) 
— and  I  would  give,  I  know  not  how  many  pounds  of  my 
blood  to  have  the  pleasure  of  being  with  you,  or  at  least  in 
a  dungeon  near  yours,  in  order  that  we  might  converge 
together.  Since  I  heard  from  Tremerello,  so  we  shall  call 
our  confidant^  that  you,  sir,  were  a  prisoner,  and  the  cause 
of  your  arrest,  I  have  longed  to  tell  you  how  deeply  I  lament 
your  misfortune,  and  that  no  one  can  feel  greater  attachment 
to  you  than  myself.  Have  you  any  objection  to  accept  the 
offer  I  make,  namely,  that  we  should  try  to  lighten  the 
burden  of  our  solitude  by  writing  to  each  other.  I  pledge 
you  my  honour,  that  not  a  being  shall  ever  hear  of  out 
correspondence  from  me,  and  am  persuaded  that  I  may  count. 


74  MY  TEN  YEARS'  IMPRISONMENT. 

upon  the  same  secresy  on  your  part,  if  you  adopt  my  plan. 
Meantime,  that  you  may  form  some  idea,  I  will  give  you  an 
abstract  from  my  life." — (It  followed.) 


CHAPTER    XXXIV. 

THE  reader,  however  deficient  in  the  imaginative  organ, 
may  easily  conceive  the  electric  effect  of  such  a  letter  upon 
the  nerves  of  a  poor  prisoner,  not  of  the  most  savage  dispo- 
sition, tut  possessing  an  affectionate  and  gregarious  turn  of 
mind.  I  felt  already  an  affection  for  the  unknown ;  I 
pitied  his  misfortunes,  and  was  grateful  for  the  kind 
expressions  he  made  use  of.  "  Yes,"  exclaimed  I,  your 
generous  purpose  shall  be  effected.  I  wish  my  letters  may 
afford  you  consolation  equal  to  that  which  I  shall  derive 
from  yours." 

I  re-perused  his  letter  with  almost  boyish  delight,  and 
blessed  the  writer ;  there  was  not  an  expression  which  did 
not  exhibit  evidence  of  a  clear  and  noble  mind. 

The  sun  was  setting,  it  was  my  hour  of  prayer ;  I  felt  the 
presence  of  God ;  how  sincere  was  my  gratitude  for  his 
providing  me  with  new  means  of  exercising  the  faculties  of 
my  mind.  How  it  revived  my  recollection  of  all  the  in- 
valuable blessings  he  had  bestowed  upon  me  ! 

I  stood  before  the  window,  with  my  arms  between  the 
bars,  and  my  hands  folded ;  the  church  of  St.  Mark  lay 
below  me,  an  immense  flock  of  pigeons,  free  as  the  air,  were 
flying  about,  were  cooing  and  billing,  or  busied  in  construct- 
ing their  nests  upon  the  leaden  roof ;  the  heavens  in  their 
magnificence  were  before  me ;  I  surveyed  all  that  part  of 
Venice  visible  from  my  prison ;  a  distant  murmur  of  human 
voices  broke  sweetly  on  my  car.  From  this  vast  unhappy 
prison-house  did  I  hold  communion  with  Him,  whose  eyes 
alone  behold  me ;  to  Him  I  recommended  my  father,  my 
mother,  and,  individually,  all  those  most  dear  to  me,  and  it 


MY   TEN  YEARS     IMPRISONMENT.  VO 

appeared  as  if  I  heard  Him  reply,  "  Confide  in  my  goodness," 
and  I  exclaimed,  "  Thy  goodness  assures  me." 

I  concluded  my  prayer  with  much  emotion,  greatly  com- 
forted, and  little  caring  for  the  bites  of  the  gnats,  which 
had  been  joyfully  feasting  upon  me.  The  same  evening, 
my  mind,  after  such  exaltation,  beginning  to  grow  calmer, 
I  found  the  torment  from  the  gnats  becoming  insufferable, 
and  while  engaged  in  wrapping  up  my  hands  and  face,  a 
vulgar  and  malignant  idea  all  at  once  entered  my  mind, 
which  horrified  me,  and  which  I  vainly  attempted  to  banish. 

Tremerello  had  insinuated  a  vile  suspicion  respecting 
Angiola ;  that,  in  short,  she  was  a  spy  upon  my  secret 
opinions !  She  !  that  noble-hearted  creature,  who  knew 
nothing  of  politics,  and  wished  to  know  nothing  of  them  ! 

It  was  impossible  for  me  to  suspect  her ;  but  have  I,  said 
I,  the  same  certainty  respecting  Tremerello  ?  Suppose  that 
rogue  should  be  the  bribed  instrument  of  secret  informers  ; 
suppose  the  letter  had  been  fabricated  by  who  knows  whom, 
to  induce  me  to  make  important  disclosures  to  my  new 
friend.  Perhaps  his  pretended  prison  does  not  exist ;  or  if 
so,  he  may  be  a  traitor,  eager  to  worm  out  secrets  in  order 
to  make  his  own  terms  ;  perhaps  he  is  a  man  of  honour,  and 
Tremerello  himself  the  traitor  who  aims  at  our  destruction 
in  order  to  gain  an  additional  salary. 

Oh,  horrible  thought,  yet  too  natural  to  the  unhappy 
prisoner,  everywhere  in  fear  of  enmity  and  fraud ! 

Such  suspicions  tormented  and  degraded  me.  I  did  not 
entertain  them  as  regarded  Angiola  a  single  moment.  Yet, 
from  what  Tremerello  had  said,  a  kind  of  doubt  clung  to  me 
as  to  the  •  conduct  of  those  who  had  permitted  her  to  come 
into  my  apartment.  Had  they,  either  from  their  own  zeal, 
or  by  superior  authority,  given  her  the  office  of  spy  ?  in  that 
case,  how  ill  had  she  discharged  such  an  office  ! 

But  what  was  I  -to  do  respecting  the  letter  of  the  un- 
known ?  Should  I  adopt  the  severe,  repulsive  counsel  of  fear 


76  MT  TEN  TEAKS'  IMPRISONMENT. 

•which  wo  call  prudence  ?  Shall  I  return  the  letter  to 
Trcmerello,  and  tell  him,  I  do  not  wish  to 'run  any  risk. 
Yet  suppose  there  should  be  no  treason  ;  and  the  unknown 
be  a  truly  worthy  character,  deserving  that  I  should  venture 
something,  if  only  to  relieve  the  horrors  of  his  solitude  P 
Coward  as  I  am,  standing  on  the  brink  of  death,  the  fatal 
decree  ready  to  strike  me  at  any  moment,  yet  to  refuse  to 
perform  a  simple  act  of  love !  Reply  to  him  I  must  and 
will.  Grant  that  it  be  discovered,  no  one  can  fairly  be 
accused  of  writing  the  letter,  though  poor  Tremerello  would 
assuredly  meet  with  the  severest  chastisement.  Is  not  this 
consideration  of  itself  sufficient  to  decide  me  against  under- 
taking any  clandestine  correspondence  ?  Is  it  not  my  absolute 
duty  to  decline  it  ?  

CHAPTER    XXXV. 

I  WAS  agitated  the  whole  evening  ;  I  never  closed  my  eyes 
that  night,  arid  amidst  so  many  conflicting  doubts,  I  knew 
not  on  what  to  resolve. 

I  sprung  from  my  bed  before  dawn,  I  mounted  upon  the 
window-place,  and  offered  up  my  prayers.  In  trying  cir- 
cumstances it  is  necessary  to  appeal  with  confidence  to  God, 
to  heed  his  inspirations,  and  to  adhere  to  them. 

This  I  did,  and  after  long  prayer,  I  went  down,  shook  off 
the  gnats,  took  the  bitten  gloves  in  my  hands,  and  came  to 
the  determination  to  explain  my  apprehensions  to  Tremerello 
and  warn  him  of  the  great  danger  to  which  he  himself  was 
exposed  by  bearing  letters ;  to  renounce'  the  plan  if  he 
wivcred,  and  to  accept  it  if  its  terrors  did  not  deter  him.  I 
walked  about  till  I  heard  the  words  of  the  song: — 
Sognai  mi  gera  un  yato,  E  ti  me  carezzevi.  It  was  Tremerello 
bringing  me  my  coflVe.  I  acquainted  him  with  my  scruples 
and  spared  nothing  to  excite  his  fears.  I  found  him  staunch 
in  his  desire  to  serve,  as  he  said,  two  such  complete  gentlemen. 
This  was  strangely  at  variance  with  the  sheep's  face  he 


MY  TEN  YEARS'  IMPRISONMENT.  77 

wore,  and  the  name  wo  had  just  given  him.*  Well,  I  was 
as  firm  on  my  part. 

"  I  shall  leave  you  my  wine,"  said  I,  "  see  to  find  mo  the 
paper;  I  want  to  carry  on  this  correspondence ;  and,  rely  on 
it,  if  any  one  comes  without  the  warning  song,  I  shall  make 
an  end  of  every  suspicious  article." 

"  Here  is  a  sheet  of  paper  ready  for  you  ;  I  will  give  you 
more  whenever  you  please,  and  am  perfectly  satisfied  of 
your  prudence." 

I  longed  to  take  my  coffee ;  Tremerello  left  me,  and  I  sat 
down  to  write.  Did  I  do  right  ?  was  the  motive  really 
approved  hy  God  ?  Was  it  not  rather  the  triumph  of  my 
natural  courage,  of  my  preference  of  that  which  pleased  me> 
instead  of  obeying  the  call  for  painful  sacrifices.  Mingled 
with  this  was  a  proud  complacency,  in  return  for  the  esteem 
expressed  towards  me  by  the  unknown,  and  a  fear  of  appear- 
ing cowardly,  if  I  were  to  adhere  to  silence  and  decline 
a  correspondence,  every  way  so  fraught  with  peril.  How 
was  I  to  resolve  these  doubts  ?  I  explained  them  frarikly 
to  my  fellow-prisoner  in  replying  to  him,  stating  it  never- 
theless, as  my  opinion,  that  if  anything  were  undertaken 
from  good  motives,  and  without  the  least  repugnance  of 
conscience,  there  could  be  no  fear  of  blame.  I  advised  him 
at  the  same  time  to  reflect  seriously  upon  the  subject,  and 
to  express  clearly  with  what  degree  of  tranquillity,  or  of 
anxiety,  he  was  prepared  to  engage  in  it.  Moreover,  if, 
upon  reconsideration,  ho  considered  the  plan  as  too 
dangerous,  we  ought  to  have  firmness  enough  to  renounce 
the  satisfaction  we  promised  ourselves  in  such  a  correspond- 
ence, and  rest  satisfied  with  the  acquaintance  we  had  formed, 
the  mutual  pleasure  we  had  already  derived,  and  the  un- 
alterable goodwill  we  felt  towards  each  other,  which  resulted 
from  it.  I  filled  four  pages  with  my  explanations,  and  ex- 
pressions of  the  warmest  friendship ;  I  briefly  alluded  to 
*  Tremerello,  or  the  little  trembler. 


78  MT  TEN  TEAKS'  IMPRISONMENT. 

the  subject  of  my  imprisonment ;  1  spoke  of  my  family  with 
enthusiastic  love,  as  well  as  of  some  of  my  friends,  and 
attempted  to  draw  a  full  picture  of  my  mind  and  character. 
In  the  evening  I  sent  the  letter.  I  had  not  slept  during 
the  preceding  night ;  I  was  completely  exhausted,  and  I 
soon  fell  into  a  profound  sleep,  from  which  I  awoke  on  the 
ensuing  morning,  refreshed  and  comparatively  happy.  I 
was  in  hourly  expectation  of  receiving  my  new  friend's 
answer,  and  I  felt  at  once  anxious  and  pleased  at  the  idea. 


CHAPTER   XXXVI. 

THE  answer  was  brought  with  my  coffee.  I  welcomed 
Trcmerello,  and,  embracing  him,  exclaimed,  "  May  God  re- 
ward you  for  this  goodness !  "  My  suspicions  had  fled,  be- 
cause they  were  hateful  to  me ;  and  because,  making  a 
point  of  never  speaking  imprudently  upon  politics,  they  ap- 
peared equally  useless  ;  and  because,  with  all  my  admiration 
for  the  genius  of  Tacitus,  I  had  never  much  faith  in  the 
justice  of  tacitising  as  he  does,  and  of  looking  upon  every 
object  on  the  dark  side.  Giuliano  (as  the  writer  signed 
himself),  began  his  letter  with  the  usual  compliments,  and 
informed  me  that  he  felt  not  the  least  anxiety  in  entering 
upon  the  correspondence.  He  rallied  me  upon  my  hesita 
tion  ;  occasionally  assumed  a  tone  of  irony ;  and  then  more 
seriously  .declared  that  it  had  given  him  no  little  pain  to 
observe  in  me  "  a  certain  scrupulous  wavering,  and  a 
eubtilty  of  conscience,  which,  however  Christian-like,  was 
little  in  accordance  with  true  philosophy."  "  I  shall  con- 
tinue to  esteem  you,"  he  added,  "though  we  should  not 
agree  upon  that  point ;  for  I  am  bound,  in  all  sincerity,  to- 
inform  you,  that  I  have  no  religion,  that  I  abhor  all  creeds, 
and  that  I  assume  from  a  feeling  of  modesty  the  name  of 
Julian,  from  the  circumstance  of  that  good  emperor  having 
been  so  decided  an  enemy  of  the  Christians,  though,  in  fact, 


MT  TEN  TEAKS'  IMPRISONMENT.  79 

I  go  much  further  than  he  ever  did.  The  sceptred  Julian 
believed  in  God,  and  had  his  own  little  superstitions.  I 
have  none  ;  I  helieve  not  in  a  God,  hut  refer  all  virtue  to- 
the  love  of  truth,  and  the  hatred  of  such  as  do  not  please 
me."  There  was  no  reasoning  in  what  he  said.  He  in- 
veighed hitterly  against  Christianity,  made  an  idol  of 
worldly  honour  and  virtue  ;  and  in  a  half  serious  and  jocular 
vein  took  on  himself  to  pronounce  the  Emperor  Julian's 
eulogium  for  his  apostasy,  and  his  philanthropic  efforts  to 
eradicate  all  traces  of  the  gospel  from  the  face  of  the  earth. 

Apprehending  that  he  had  thus  given  too  severe  a 
phock  to  my  opinions,  he  then  asked  my  pardon,  attempting 
to  excuse  himself  upon  the  ground  of  perfect  sincerity. 
Reiterating  his  extreme  wish  to  enter  into  more  friendly  re- 
lations with  me,  he  then  bade  me  farewell. 

In  a  postscript  he  added  : —  "  I  have  no  sort  of  scruples, 
except  a  fear  of  not  having  made  myself  sufficiently  under- 
stood. I  ought  not  to  conceal  that  to  me  the  Christian 
language  which  you  employ,  appears  a  mere  mask  to  con- 
ceal your  real  opinions.  I  wish  it  may  be  so  ;  and  in  this 
case,  throw  off  your  cloak,  as  I  have  set  you  an  example." 

I  cannot  describe  the  effect  this  letter  had  upon  me.  I 
had  opened  it  full  of  hope  and  ardour.  Suddenly  an  icy 
hand  seemed  to  chill  the  life-blood  of  my  heart.  That 
sarcasm  on  my  conscientiousness  hurt  me  extremely.  I  re- 
pented having  formed  any  acquaintance  with  such  a  man,  I 
who  so  much  detest  the  doctrine  of  the  cynics,  who  consider 
it  so  wholly  unphilosophical,  and  the  most  injurious, 
in  its  tendency :  I  who  despise  all  kind  of  arrogance  as  it 
deserves. 

Having  read  the  last  word  it  contained,  I  took  the  letter 
in  both  my  hands,  and  tearing  it  directly  down  the  middle,, 
I  held  up  a  half  in  each  like  an  executioner,  employed  iib 
exposing  it  to  public  scorn. 


80  MY  TEN  TEARS'  IMPRISONMENT. 

CHAPTER  XXXVII. 

I  KEPT  my  eye  fixed  on  the  fragments,  meditating  for  a 
moment  upon  the  inconstancy  and  fallacy  of  human  things. 
I  had  just  before  eagerly  desired  to  obtain,  that  which  I 
now  tore  with  disdain.  I  had  hoped  to  have  found  a  com- 
panion in  misfortune,  and  how  I  should  have  valued  his 
friendship !  Now  I  gave  him  all  kinds  of  hard  names,  inso- 
lent, arrogant,  atheist,  and  self-condemned. 

I  repeated  the  same  operation,  dividing  the  wretched 
members  of  the  guilty  letter  again  and  again,  till  happening 
to  cast  my  eye  on  a  piece  remaining  in  my  hand,  expressing 
some  better  sentiment,  I  changed  my  intention,  and  col- 
lecting together  the  disjecta  membra,  ingeniously  pieced 
them  with  the  view  of  reading  it  once  more.  I  sat  down, 
placed  them  on  my  great  Bible,  and  examined  the  whole. 
I  then  got  up,  walked  about,  read,  and  thought,  "If  I  do 
not  answer,"  said  I,  "  he  will  think  he  has  terrified  me  at 
tKe  mere  appearance  of  such  a  philosophical  hero,  a  very 
Hercules  in  his  own  estimation.  Let  us  show  him,  with  all 
due  courtesy,  that  we  fear  not  to  confront  him  and  his 
vicious  doctrines,  any  more  than  to  brave  the  risk  of  a  cor- 
respondence, more  dangerous  to  others  than  to  ourselves. 
I  will  teach  him  that  true  courage  does  not  consist  in 
ridiculing  conscience,  and  that  real  dignity  does  not  consist 
in  arrogance  and  pride.  He  shall  be  taught  the  reasonable- 
ness of  Christianity,  and  the  nothingness  of  disbelief. 
Moreover,  if  this  mock  Julian  start  opinions  so  directly 
opposite  to  my  own,  if  he  spare  not  the  most  biting 
sarcasm,  if  he  attack  me  thus  uncourteounly  ;  is  it  not  all  a 
proof  that  he  can  be  no  spy  ?  Yet,  might  not  this  be  a 
mere  stratagem,  to  draw  me  into  a  discussion  by  wounding 
my  self-love  ?  Yet  no  !  I  am  unjust — I  smart  under  his 
bittr-r  irreligious  jests,  and  conclude  at  once  that  he  must 
be  the  most  infamous  of  men.  Base  suspicion,  which  I 


MY  TEN-  TEARS'  IMPRISONMENT.  81 

have  so  often  decried  in  others !  he  may  be  what  he  ap- 
pears— a  presumptuous  infidel,  but  not  a  spy.  Have  I  even 
a  right  to  call  by  the  name  of  insolence,  what  he  considers 
sincerity.  Is  this,  I  continued,  thy  humility,  oh,  hypocrite? 
If  any  one  presume  to  maintain  his  own  opinions,  and  to 
question  your  faith,  he  is  forthwith  to  be  met  with  con- 
tempt and  abuse.  Is  not  this  worse  in  a  Christian,  than 
the  bold  sincerity  of  the  unbeliever  ?  Yes,  and  perhaps  he 
only  requires  one  ray  of  Divine  grace,  to  employ  his  noble 
energetic  love  of  truth  in  the  cause  of  true  religion,  with 
far  greater  success  than  yourself.  Were  it  not,  then,  more 
becoming  in  me  to  pray  for,  than  to  irritate  him  ?  Who 
knows,  but  while  employed  in  destroying  his  letter  with 
every  mark  of  ignominy,  he  might  be  reading  mine  with 
expressions  of  kindness  and  affection;  never  dreaming  I 
should  fly  into  such  a  mighty  passion  at  his  plain  and  bold 
sincerity.  Is  he  not  the  better  of  the  two,  to  love  and 
esteem  me  while  declaring  he  is  no  Christian  ;  than  I  who 
exclaim,  I  am  a  Christian,  and  I  detest  you.  It  is  difficult 
to  obtain  a  knowledge  of  a  man  during  a  long  intercourse, 
yet  I  would  condemn  him  on  the  evidence  of  a  single  letter. 
He  may,  perhaps,  be  unhappy  in  his  atheism,  and  wish  to 
hear  all  my  arguments  to  enable  him  the  better  to  arrive  at 
the  truth.  Perhaps,  too,  I  may  be  called  to  effect  so 
beneficent  a  work,  the  humble  instrument  of  a  gracious 
God.  Oh,  that  it  may  indeed  be  so,  I  will  not  shrink  from 
the  task."  

CHAPTER   XXXVIII. 

I  SAT  down  to  write  to  Julian,  and  was  cautious  not  to  let 
one  irritating  word  proceed  from  my  pen.  I  iook  in  good 
part  his  reflection  upon  my  fastidiousness  of  conscience ;  I 
even  joked  about  it,  telling  him  he  perhaps  gave  me  too 
much  credit  for  it,  and  ought  to  suspend  his  good  opinion 
till  he  knew  me  better.  I  praised  his  sincerity,  assuring 


82  MY   TEN  YEARS'   IMPRISONMENT. 

him  that  he  would  find  me  equal  to  him  in  this  respect,  and 
that  as  a  proof  of  it,  I  had  determined  to  defend 
Christianity,  "  Well  persuaded,"  I  added,  "  that  as  I  shall 
readily  give  free  scope  to  your  opinions,  you  will  he  pre- 
pared to  give  me  the  same  advantage." 

I  then  boldly  entered  upon  my  task,  arguing  my  way  by 
degrees,  and  analysing  with  impartiality  the  essence  of 
Christianity ;  the  worship  of  God  free  from  superstitions, 
the  brotherhood  of  mankind,  aspiration  after  virtue, 
humility  without  baseness,  dignity  without  •  pride,  as  ex- 
emplified in  our  Divine  Saviour !  what  more  philosophical, 
and  more  truly  grand  ? 

It  was  next  my  object  to  demonstrate,  "  that  this  divine 
wisdom  had  more  or  less  displayed  itself  to  all  those  who  by 
the  light  of  reason  had  sought  after  the  truth,  though  not 
generally  diffused  till  the  arrival  of  its  great  Author  upon 
the  earth.  He  had  proved  his  heavenly  mission  by  effecting 
the  most  wonderful  and  glorious  results,  by  human  means 
the  meat  mean  and  humble.  What  the  greatest  philosophers 
had  in  vain  attempted,  the  overthrow  of  idolatry,  and  the 
universal  preaching  of  love  and  brotherhood,  was  achieved 
by  a  few  untutored  missionaries.  From  that  era  was  first 
dated  the  emancipation  of  slaves,  no  less  from  bondage  of 
limbs  than  of  mind,  until  by  degrees  a  civilisation  without 
slavery  became  apparent,  a  state  of  society  believed  to  be 
utterly  impracticable  by  the  ancient  philosophers.  A  re- 
view of  history  from  the  appearance  of  Christ  to  the  present 
age,  would  finally  demonstrate  that  the  religion  he  estab- 
lished had  invariably  been  found  adapted  to  all  possible 
grades  in  civilised  society.  For  this  reason,  the  assertion 
that  the  gospel  was  no  longer  in  accordance  with  the  con- 
tinued progress  of  civilisation,  could  not  for  a  moment  be 
maintained." 

I  wrote  in  as  small  characters  as  I  could,  and  at  great 
length,  but  I  could  not  embrace  all  which  I  had  ready  pre- 


MY  TEN  YEARS'  IMPRISONMENT. 

pared  upon  the  subject.  I  re-examined  the  whole  carefully. 
There  -was  not  one  revengeful,  injurious,  or  even  repulsive 
word.  Benevolence,  toleration,  and  forbearance,  were  the 
only  weapons  I  employed  against  ridicule  and  sarcasm  of 
every  kind ;  they  were  also  employed  after  mature  delibera- 
tion, and  dictated  from  the  heai't. 

I  despatched  the  letter,  and  in  no  little  anxiety  waited  the 
arrival  of  tho  next  morning,  in  hopes  of  a  speedy  reply. 

Tremerello  came,  and  observed;  "The  gentleman,  sir, 
was  not  able  to  write,  but  entreats  of  you  to  continue  the 
joke." 

""The  joke  ! "  I  exclaimed.  "  No,  he  could  not  have  said 
that !  you  must  have  mistaken  him." 

Tremerello  shrugged  up  his  shoulders :  "  I  suppose  1 
must,  if  you  say  so." 

"  But  did  it  really  seem  as  if  he  had  said  a  joke  ?  " 

"As  plainly  as  I  now  hear  the  sound  of  St.  Mark's 
clock;  "  (the  Campanone  was  just  then  heard.)  I  drank  my 
coffee  and  was  silent. 

"  But  tell  me ;  did  he  read  the  whole1  of  the  letter  ?  " 

"  I  think  he  did  ;  for  he  laughed  like  a  madman,  and  then 
squeezing  your  letter  into  a  ball,  he  began  to  throw  it  about, 
till  reminding  him  that  he  must  not  forget  to  destroy  it,  he 
did  so  immediately." 

"  That  is  very  well." 

I  then  put  my  coffee  cup  into  Tremerello's  hands,  observ- 
ing that  it  was  plain  the  coffee  had  been  made  by  tho  Siora 
Bettina. 

"What!  ia  it  so  bad?" 

"Quite  vile!" 

"  Well !  I  made  it  myself ;  and  I  can  assure  you  that  1 
made  it  strong ;  there  were  no  dregs." 

"  True  ;  it  may  be,  my  mouth  is  out  of  taste." 


84  MY  TEN  YEARS'  IMPRISONMENT. 


CHAPTER   XXXIX. 

I  WALKED  about  the  whole  morning  in  a  rage.  "  What  an 
abandoned  wretch  is  this  Julian !  what,  call  my  letter  a 
joke  !  play  at  ball  with  it,  reply  not  a  single  lino !  But  all 
your  infidels  are  alike !  They  dare  not  stand  the  test  of 
argument ;  they  know  their  weakness,  and  try  to  turn  it  off 
with  a  jest.  Full  of  vanity  and  boasting,  they  venture  not 
to  examine  even  themselves.  They  philosophers,  indeed ! 
worthy  disciples  of  Democritus ;  who  did  nothing  but  laugh, 
and  was  nothing  but  a  buffoon.  I  am  rightly  served,  how- 
ever, for  beginning  a  correspondence  like  this ;  and  still 
more  for  writing  a  second  time." 

At  dinner,  Tremerello  took  up  my  wine,  poured  it  into  a 
flask,  and  put  it  into  his  pocket,  observing :  "  I  see  that  you 
are  in  want  of  paper ;  "  and  he  gave  me  some.  He  retired, 
and  the  moment  I  cast  my  eye  on  the  paper,  I  felt  tempted 
to  sit  down  and  wiite  to  Julian  a  sharp  lecture  on  his  in- 
tolerable turpitude  and  presumption,  and  so  take  leave  of 
him.  But  again,  I  repented  of  my  own  violence,  and  un- 
charitableness,  and  finally  resolved  to  write  another  letter 
in  a  better  spirit  as  I  had  done  before. 

I  did  so,  and  despatched  it  without  delay.  The  next 
morning  I  received  a  few  lines,  simply  expressive  of  the 
writer's  thanks;  but  without  a  single  jest,  or  the  least  in- 
vitation to  continue  the  correspondence.  Such  a  billet  dis- 
pleased me ;  nevertheless  I  determined  to  persevere.  Six 
long  letters  were  the  result,  for  each  of  which  I  received  a 
few  laconic  lines  of  thanks,  with  some  declamation  against 
his  enemies,  followed  by  a  joke  on  the  abuse  he  had  heaped 
upon  them,  asserting  that  it  was  extremely  natural  the 
strong  should  oppress  the  weak,  and  regretting  that  he 
was  not  in  the  list  of  the  former.  He  then  related  some  of 
his  love  affairs,  and  observed  that  they  exercised  no  little 
sway  over  his  disturbed  imagination. 


MY  TEN  TEARS'  IMPRISONMENT.  85 

In  reply  to  my  last  on  the  subject  of  Christianity,  he  said 
he  had  prepared  a  long  letter  ;  for  which  I  looked  out  in 
vain,  though  he  wrote  to  me  every  day  on  other  topics — 
chiefly  a  tissue  of  obscenity  and  folly. 

I  reminded  him  of  his  promise  that  he  would  answer  all 
my  arguments,  and  recommended  him  to  weigh  well  the 
reasonings  with  which  I  had  supplied  him  before  he  at- 
tempted to  write.  He  replied  to  this  somewhat  in  a  rage, 
assuming  the  airs  of  a  philosopher,  a  man  of  firmness,  a  man 
•who  stood  in  no  want  of  brains  to  distinguish  "  a  hawk  from 
a  hand-saw."*  He  then  resumed  his  jocular  vein,  and 
began  te  enlarge  upon  his  experiences  iii  life,  and  especially 
some  very  scandalous  love  adventures. 


CHAPTER    XL. 

I  BORE  all  this  patiently,  to  give  him  no  handle  for  ac- 
cusing "me  of  bigotry  or  intolerance,  and  in  the  hope  that 
after  the  fever  of  erotic  buffoonery  and  folly  had  subsided, 
he  might  have  some  lucid  intervals,  and  listen  to  common 
sense.  Meantime  I  gave  him  expressly  to  understand  that 
I  disapproved  of  his  want  of  respect  towards  women,  his 
free  and  profane  expressions,  and  pitied  those  unhappy  ones, 
•who,  he  informed  me,  had  been  his  victims. 

He  pretended  to  care  little  about  my  disapprobation,  and 
repeated :  "  spite  of  your  fine  strictures  upon  immorality,  I 
know  well  you  are  amused  with  the  account  of  my  adven- 
tures. All  men  are  as  fond  of  pleasure  as  I  am,  but  they 
have  not  the  frankness  to  talk  of  it  without  cloaking  it  from 
the  eyes  of  the  world ;  I  will  go  on  till  you  are  quite  en- 
chanted, and  confess  yourself  compelled  in  very  conscience 
to  applaud  me."  So  he  went  on  from  week  to  week,  I 
bearing  with  him,  partly  out  of  curiosity  and  partly  in  the 

*  Per  capire  che  le  lucciole  non  erauo  lanterne. 

"  Te  know  that  glowworms  are  not  lanterns." 


86  MY  TEN  YEARS'  IMPRISONMENT. 

expectation  he  would  fall  upon  some  better  topic ;  and  I  can 
fairly  say  that  this  species  of  tolerance,  did  me  no  little 
harm.  I  began  to  lose  my  respect  for  pure  and  noble  truths, 
my  thoughts  became  confused,  and  my  mind  disturbed.  To 
converse  with  men  of  degraded  minds  is  in  itself  degrading, 
at  least  if  you  possess  not  virtue  very  superior  to  mine. 
"  This  is  a  proper  punishment,"  said  I,  "for  my  presump- 
tion ;  this  it  is  to  assume  the  office  of  a  missionary  without 
its  sacredness  of  character." 

One  day  I  determined  to  write  to  him  as  follows : — "  I 
have  hitherto  attempted  to  turn  your  attention  to  other 
subjects,  and  you  persevere  in  sending  me  accounts  of  your- 
self which  no  way  please  me.  For  the  sake  of  variety,  let 
us  correspond  a  little  respecting  worthier  matters ;  if  not, 
give  the  hand  of  fellowship,  and  let  us  have  done." 

The  two  ensuing  days  I  received  no  answer,  and  1  was 
glad  of  it.  "  Oh,  blessed  solitude ;  "  often  I  exclaimed, 
"  how  far  holier  and  better  art  thou  than  harsh  and  undig- 
nified association  with  the  living.  Away  with  the  empty  and 
impious  vanities,  the  base  actions,  the  low  despicable  conver- 
sations of  such  a  world.  I  have  studied  it  enough ;  let  me 
turn  to  my  communion  with  God  ;  to  the  calm,  dear  recol- 
lections of  my  family  and  my  true  friends.  I  will  read  my 
Bible  oftener  than  I  have  done,  I  will  again  write  down  my 
thoughts,  will  try  to  raise  and  improve  them,  and  taste  the 
pleasure  of  a  sorrow  at  least  innocent :  a  thousand  fold  to  be 
preferred  to  vulgar  and  wicked  imaginations." 

Whenever  Tremerello  now  entered  my  room  he  was  in 
the  habit  of  saying,  "  I  have  got  no  answer  yet." 

"  It  is  all  right,"  was  my  reply. 

About  the  third  day  from  this,  he  said,  with  a  serious 
look,  "Signer  N.  N.  is  rather  indisposed." 

"  What  is  the  matter  with  him  ?  " 

"  He  does  not  say,  but  he  has  taken  to  his  bed,  neither 
eats  nor  drinks,  and  is  sadly  out  of  humour." 


MY  TEN  TEAKS'  IMPRISONMENT.  87 

I  was  touched ;  he  was  suffering  and  had  no  one  to  console 
him. 

"  I  will  write  him  a  few  lines,"  exclaimed  I. 

"  I  will  take  them  this  evening,  then,"  said  Tremerello, 
and  he  went  out. 

I  was  a  little  perplexed  on  sitting  down  to  my  table : 
"Am  I  right  in  resuming  this  correspondence ?  was  I  not, 
just  now,  praising  solitude  as  a  treasure  newly  found  ?  what 
inconsistency  is  this !  Ah  !  but  he  neither  eats  nor  drinks, 
and  I  fear  must  be  very  ill.  Is  it,  then,  a  moment  to 
abandon  him  ?  My  last  letter  was  severe,  and  may  perhaps 
have  caused  him  pain.  Perhaps,  in  spite  of  our  different 
ways  of  thinking,  he  wished  not  to  end  our  correspondence. 
Yes,  he  has  thought  my  letter  more  caustic  than  I  meant  it 
to  be,  and  taken  it  in  the  light  of  an  absolute  and  contempt- 
uous dismission.  

CHAPTER  XLI. 
I  SAT  down  and  wrote  as  follows : — 

"I  hear  that  you  are  not  well,  and  am  extremely  sorry  for 
it.  I  wish  I  were  with  you,  and  enabled  to  assist  you  as  a 
friend.  I  hope  your  illness  is  the  sole  cause  why  you  have 
not  written  to  me  during  the  last  three  days.  Did  you  take 
offence  at  my  little  strictures  the  other  day  ?  Believe  me 
they  were  dictated  by  no  ill  will  or  spleen,  but  with  the 
single  object  of  drawing  your  attention  to  more  serious 
subjects.  Should  it  be  irksome  for  you  to  write,  send  me 
an  exact  account,  by  word,  how  you  find  yourself.  You 
shall  hear  from  me  every  day,  and  I  will  try  to  say  some- 
thing to  amuse  you,  and  to  show  you  that  I  really  wish  you 
well." 

Imagine  my  unfeigned  surprise  when  I  received  an 
answer,  couched  in  these  terms  : 

"I  renounce  your  friendship  :  if  you  are  at  a  loss  how  to 
estimate  mine,  I  return  the  compliment  in  its  full  force.  I 


88  MY  TEN  YEARS'  IMPRISONMENT. 

am  not  a  man  to  put  up  with  injurious  treatment;  I  am 
not  one,  who,  once  rejected,  will  be  ordered  to  return. 

"  Because  you  heard  I  was  unwell,  you  approach  me 
with  a  hypocritical  air,  in  the  idea  that  illness  will  break 
down  my  spirit,  and  make  me  listen  to  your  sermons  .  .  ." 

In  this  way  he  rambled  on,  reproaching  and  despising 
me  in  the  most  revolting  terms  he  could  find,  and  turning 
every  thing  I  had  said  into  ridicule  and  burlesque.  He 
assured  me  that  he  knew  how  to  live  and  die  with  consist- 
ency ;  that  is  to  say,  with  the  utmost  hatred  and  contempt 
for  all  philosophical  creeds  differing  from  his  own.  1  was 
dismayed ! 

"  A  pretty  conversion  I  have  made  of  it !  "  I  exclaimed ; 
"yet  God  is  my  witness  that  my  motives  were  pure.  I 
have  done  nothing  to  merit  an  attack  like  this.  But 
patience !  I  am  once  more  undeceived.  I  am  not  called 
upon  to  do  more." 

In  a  few  days  I  became  less  angry,  and  conceived  that  all 
this  bitterness  might  have  resulted  from  some  excitement 
which  might  pass  away.  Probably  he  repents,  yet  scorns 
to  confess  he  was  in  the  wrong.  In  such  a  state  of  mind,  it 
might  be  generous  of  me  to  write  to  him  once  more.  It 
cost  my  self-love  something,  but  I  did  it.  To  humble  one's 
self  for  a  good  purpose  is  not  degrading,  with  whatever  de- 
gree of  unjust  contempt  it  may  be  returned. 

I  received  a  reply  less  violent,  but  not  less  insulting. 
The  implacable  patient  declared  that  he  admired  what  he 
called  my  evangelical  moderation.  "  Now,  therefore,"  he 
continued,  "  let  us  resume  our  correspondence,  but  let  us 
speak  out.  We  do  not  like  each  other,  but  we  will  write, 
each  for  his  own  amusement,  setting  everything  down 
which  may  come  into  our  heads.  You  will  tell  me  your 
seraphic  visions  and  revelations,  and  I  will  treat  you  with 
my  profane  adventures ;  yeu  again  will  run  into  ecstasies 
upon  the  dignity  of  mun,  yea,  and  of  woman  ;  I  into  an  in- 


MY  TEN  YEARS'  IMPRISONMENT.  89 

genuous  narrative  of  my  various  profanations ;  I  hoping  to 
make  a  convert  of  you,  and  you  of  me. 

"  Give  me  an  answer  should  you  approve  these  con- 
ditions." 

"  I  replied,  "  Yours  is  not  a  compact,  but  a  jest.  I  was 
full  of  good-will  towards  you.  My  conscience  does  not 
constrain  rne  to  do  more  than  to  wish  you  every  happiness 
both  as  regards  this  and  another  life." 

Thus  ended  rny  secret  connexion  with  that  strange  man. 
But  who  knows ;  he  was  perhaps  more  exasperated  by  ill 
fortune,  delirium,  or  despair,  than  really  bad  at  heart. 


CHAPTER    XLII. 

I  ONCE  more  learnt  to  value  solitude,  and  my  days  tracked 
each  other  without  any  distinction  or  mark  of  change. 

The  summer  was  over ;  it  was  towards  the  close  of  Sep- 
tember, and  the  heat  grew  less  oppressive  ;  October  came. 
I  congratulated  myself  now  on  occupying  a  chamber  well 
adapted  for  winter.  One  morning,  however,  the  jailer 
made  his  appearance,  with  an  order  to  change  my  prison. 

"  And  where  am  I  to  go  ?  " 

"  Only  a  few  steps,  into  a  fresher  chamber." 

"  But  why  not  think  of  it  when  I  was  dying  of  suffoca- 
tion ;  when  the  air  was  filled  with  gnats,  and  my  bed  with 
bugs?" 

"  The  order  did  not  come  before." 

"  Patience  !  let  us  be  gone  !  " 

Notwithstanding  I  had  suffered  so  greatly  in  this  prison, 
it  gave  me  pain  to  leave  it  ;  not  simply  because  it  would 
have  been  best  for  the  winter  season,  but  for  many  other 
reasons.  There  I  had  the  ants  to  attract  my  attention, 
which  I  had  fed  and  looked  upon,  I  may  almost  say,  with 
paternal  care.  Within  the  last  few  days,  however,  my 
friend  the  spider,  and  my  great  ally  in  my  war  with  the 


90  MY  TEN  TEARS'  IMPRISONMENT. 

gnats,  had,  for  some  reason  or  other,  chosen  to  emigrate ;  at 
least  he  did  not  come  as  usual.  "  Yet  perhaps,"  said  I, 
"  he  may  remember  me,  and  come  hack,  hut  he  will  find 
my  prison  empty,  or  occupied  by  some  other  guest — no 
friend  perhaps  to  spiders — and  thus  meet  with  an  awkward 
reception.  His  fine  woven  house,  and  his  gnat-feasts  will 
all  be  put  an  end  to." 

Again,  my  gloomy  abode  had  been  embellished  by  the 
presence  of  Angiola,  so  good,  so  gentle  and  compassionate. 
There  she  used  to  sit,  and  try  every  means  she  could  devise 
to  amuse  me,  oven  dropping  crumbs  of  bread  for  my  little 
visitors,  the  ants  ;  and  there  I  heard  her  sobs,  and  saw  the 
tears  fall  thick  and  fast,  as  she  spoke  of  her  cruel  lover. 

The  place  I  was  removed  to  was  under  the  leaden  prisons, 
(7  I'iombi)  open  to  the  north  and  west,  with  two  windows, 
one  on  each  side ;  an  abode  exposed  to  perpetual  cold 
and  even  icy  chill  during  the  severest  months.  The  window 
to  the  west  was  the  largest,  that  to  the  north  was  high  and 
narrow,  and  situated  above  my  bed. 

I  first  looked  out  at  this  last,  and  found  that  it  com- 
manded a  view  of  the  Palace  of  the  Patriarch.  Other 
prisons  were  near  mine,  in  a  narrow  wing  to  the  right,  and 
in  a  projection  of  the  building  right  opposite.  Here  were 
two  prisons,  one  above  the  other.  The  lower  had  an 
enormous  window,  through  which  I  could  see  a  man,  very 
richly  drest,  pacing  to  and  fro.  It  was  the  Signer 
Caporale  di  Cesena.  He  perceived  me,  made  a  signal,  and 
we  pronounced  each  other's  names. 

I  next  looked  out  at  my  other  window.  I  put  the  little 
table  upon  my  bed,  and  a  chair  upon  my  table  ;  I  climbed 
up  and  found  myself  on  a  level  with  part  of  the  palace 
roof ;  and  beyond  this  was  to  be  seen  a  fine  view  of  the  city 
and  the  lake. 

I  paused  to  admire  it;  and  though  I  heard  some  one 
open  the  door,  I  did  not  move.  It  was  the  jailer ;  and  per- 


MT  TEX  TEAKS'  IMPRISONMENT.  91 

ceiving  that  I  had  clambered  up,  he  got  it  into  his  head  I 
was  making  an  attempt  to  escape,  forgetting,  in  his  alarm, 
that  I  was  not  a  mouse  to  creep  through  all  those  narrow 
bars.  In  a  moment  he  sprung  upon  the  hed,  spite  of  a 
violent  sciatica  which  had  nearly  hent  him  double,  and 
catching  me  by  the  legs,  he  began  to  call  out,  "  thieves  and 
murder !  " 

"  But  don't  you  see,"  I  exclaimed,  "  you  thoughtless 
man,  that  I  cannot  conjure  myself  through  these  horrible 
bars?  Surely  you  know  I  got  up  here  out  of  mere 
curiosity." 

"  Oh,  yes,  I  see,  I  apprehend,  sir ;  but  quick,  sir,  jump 
down,  sir ;  these  are  all  temptations  of  the  devil  to  make 
you  think  of  it !  come  down,  sir,  pray." 

I  lost  no  time  in  my  descent,  and  laughed. 


CHAPTER   XLIII. 

AT  the  windows  of  the  side  prisons  I  recognised  six  other 
prisoners,  all  there  on  account  of  politics.  Just  then,  as  I 
was  composing  my  mind  to  perfect  solitude,  I  found  myself 
comparatively  in  a  little  world  of  human  beings  around  me. 
The  change  was,  at  first,  irksome  to  me,  such  complete 
seclusion  having  rendered  me  almost  unsociable,  add  to 
which,  the  disagreeable  termination  of  my  correspondence 
with  Julian.  Still,  the  little  conversation  I  was  enabled  to 
carry  on,  partly  by  signs,  with  my  new  fellow-prisoners, 
was  of  advantage  by  diverting  my  attention.  I  breathed 
not  a  word  respecting  my  correspondence  with  Julian  ;  it 
was  a  point  of  honour  between  us,  and  in  bringing  it  for- 
ward here,  I  was  fully  aware  that  in  the  immense  number 
of  unhappy  men  with  which  these  prisons  were  thronged,  it 
would  be  impossible  to  ascertain  who  was  the  assumed 
Julian. 

To  the  interest  derived  from  seeing  my  fellow-captives 


92  MY  TEN  TEARS'  IMPRISONMENT. 

was  added  another  of  a  yet  more  delightful  kind.  I  could 
perceive  from  my  large  window,  beyond  the  projection  of 
prisons,  situated  right  before  me,  a  surface  of  roofs, 
decorated  with  cupolas,  campunili,  towers,  and  chimneys, 
which  gradually  faded  in  a  distant  view  of  sea  and  sky.  In 
the  house  nearest  to  me,  a  wing  of  the  Patriarchal  palace, 
lived  an  excellent  family,  who  had  a  claim  to  my  gratitude, 
for  expressing,  by  their  salutations,  the  interest  which  they 
took  in  my  fate.  A  sign,  a  word  of  kindness  to  the  un- 
happy, is  really  charity  of  no  trivial  kind.  From  one  of 
the  windows  I  saw  a  little  boy,  nine  or  ten  years  old, 
stretching  out  his  hands  towards  me,  and  I  heard  him  call 
out,  "Mamma,  mamma,  they  have  placed  somebody  up 
there  in  the  Piombi.  Oh,  you  poor  prisoner,  who  are  you.  P  " 

"  I  am  Silvio  Pellico,"  was  the  reply. 

Another  older  boy  now  ran  to  the  same  window,  and 
cried  out,  "  Are  you  Silvio  Pellico  ?  " 

"  Yes ;  and  tell  me  your  names,  dear  boys." 

"  My  name  is  Antonio  S ,  and  my  brother's  is 

Joseph." 

lie  then  turned  round,  and,  speaking  to  some  one  within, 
4 '  What  else  ought  I  to  ask  him  P  "  A  lady,  whom  I  con- 
jecture to  have  been  their  mother,  then  half  concealed, 
suggested  some  pretty  words  to  them,  which  they  repeated, 
and  for  which  I  thanked  them  with  all  my  heart.  These 
sort  of  communications  were  a  small  matter,  yet  it  re- 
quired to  be  cautious  how  we  indulged  in  them,  lest  we 
should  attract  the  notice  of  the  jailer.  Morning,  noon,  and 
night,  they  were  a  source  of  the  greatest  consolation  ;  the 
little  boys  were  constantly  in  the  habit  of  bidding  mo  good 
night,  before  the  windows  were  closed,  and  the  lights 
brought  in,  "Good  night,  Silvio,"  and  often  it  was  re- 
peated by  the  good  lady,  in  a  more  subdued  voice,  "  Good 
night,  Silvio,  have  courage  !  " 

When  engaged  at  their  meals  they  would  say,  "  How  we 


MY  TEN  TEAKS'  IMPRISONMENT.  93 

wish  we  could  give  you  any  of  this  good  coffee  and  milk. 
Pray  remember,  the  first  day  they  let  you  out,  to  come 
and  see  us.  Mamma  and  wo  will  give  you  plenty  of  good 
things,*  and  aa  many  kisses  as  you  like." 


CHAPTER  XLIV. 

THI  month  of  October  brought  round  one  of  the  most  dis- 
agreeable anniversaries  in  my  life.  I  was  arrested  on  the 
13th  of  that  month  in  the  preceding  year.  Other  recollec- 
tions of  the  same  period,  also  pained  me.  That  day  two 
years,  a  highly  valued  and  excellent  man  whom  I  truly 
honoured,  was  drowned  in  the  Ticino.  Three  years  before, 
a  young  person,  Odoardo  Briche,f  whom  I  loved  as  if  he  had 
been  my  own  son,  had  accidentally  killed  himself  with  a 
musket.  Earlier  in  my  youth  another  severe  affliction  had 
befallen  me  in  the  same  month. 

Though  not  superstitious,  the  remembrance  of  so  many 
unhappy  occurrences  at  the  same  period  of  the  year,  inspired 
a  feeling  of  extreme  sorrow.  While  conversing  at  the  win- 
dow with  the  children,  and  with  my  fellow  prisoners,  I  as- 
sumed an  air  of  mirth,  but  hardly  had  I  re-entered  my  cave 
than  an  irresistible  feeling  of  melancholy  weighed  down 
every  faculty  of  my  mind.  In  vain  I  attempted  to  engage 
in  some  literary  composition  ;  I  was  in  voluntarily  impelled 
to  write  upon  other  topics.  I  thought  of  my  family,  and 
wrote  letters  after  letters,  in  which  I  poured  forth  all  my 
burdened  spirit,  all  I  had  felt  and  enjoyed  of  home,  in  far 
happier  days,  surrounded  by  brothers,  sisters,  and  friends 
who  had  always  loved  me.  The  desire  of  seeing  them,  and 

*  Bnzzolai,  a  kind  of  small  loaf. 

t  Odoardo  Bnohe.  a  youn.r  man  of  truly  animated  genius,  and  the 
most  amiable  disposition.  He  was  the  son  of  Mous.  Briche,  mem- 
ber of  the  Constituent  Assemby  in  France,  who  for  thirty  years 
past,  had  selected  Milan  as  his  adopted  country. 


94  MY  TEN  YEARS'  IMPBISONMENT. 

long  compulsory  separation,  led  me  to  speak  on  a  variety  of 
little  things,  and  reveal  a  thousand  thoughts  of  gratitude 
and  tenderness,  which  would  not  otherwise  have  occurred 
to  my  mind. 

In  the  same  way  I  took  a  review  of  my  former  life,  diver- 
ting my  attention  by  recalling  past  incidents,  and  dwelling 
upon  those  happier  periods  now  for  ever  fled.  Often,  when 
the  picture  I  had  thus  drawn,  and  sat  contemplating  for 
hours,  suddenly  vanished  from  my  sight,  andleft  me  conscious 
only  of  the  fearful  present,  and  more  threatening  futurei 
the  pen  fell  from  my  hand ;  I  recoiled  with  horror ;  the 
contrast  was  more  than  I  could  hear.  These  were  terrific 
moments  ;  I  had  already  felt  them,  but  never  with  such  in- 
tense susceptibility  as  then.  It  was  agony.  This  I  attri- 
buted to  extreme  excitement  of  the  passions,  occasioned  by 
expressing  them  in  the  form  of  letters,  addressed  to  persona 
to  whom  I  was  so  tenderly  attached. 

I  turned  to  other  subjects,  I  determined  to  change  the 
form  of  expressing  my  ideas,  but  could  not.  In  whatever 
way  I  began,  it  always  ended  in  a  letter  teeming  with  affec- 
tion and  with  grief. 

"  What,"  I  exclaimed,  "  am  J  no  more  master  of  my  own 
will  ?  Is  this  strange  necessity  of  doing  that  which  I  object 
to,  a  distortion  of  my  brain  ?  At  first  I  could  have  accounted 
for  it ;  but  after  being  inured  to  this  solitude,  reconciled, 
and  supported  by  religious  reflections ;  how  have  I  become 
the  slave  of  these  blind  impulses,  these  wanderings  of  heart 
and  mind  ?  let  me  apply  to  other  matters !  "  I  then  endea- 
voured to  pray ;  or  to  weary  my  attention  by  hard  study  of 
the  German.  Alas  !  I  commenced  and  found  myself  actually 
engaged  in  writing  a  letter ! 


MY  TEN  TEAKS'  IMPRISONMENT.  95 


CHAPTER.  XLV. 

SUCH  a  state  of  mind  was  a  real  disease,  or  I  know  not  if  it 
may  be  called  a  kind  of  somnambulism.  Without  doubt  it 
was  the  effect  of  extreme  lassitude,  occasioned  by  continual 
thought  and  watchfulness. 

It  gained  upon  me.  I  grew  feverish  and  sleepless.  I 
left  off  coffee,  but  the  disease  was  not  removed.  It  appeared 
to  me  as  if  I  were  two  persons,  one  of  them  eagerly  bent 
upon  writing  letters,  the  other  upon  doing  something 
else.  "  At  least,"  said  I,  "you  shall  write  them  in  German 
if  you  do  ;  and  we  shall  learn  a  little  of  the  language.  Me- 
thought  he  then  set  to  work,  and  wrote  volumes  of  bad 
German,  and  he  certainly  brought  me  rapidly  forward  in  the 
study  of  it.  Towards  morning,  my  mind  being  wholly  ex- 
hausted, I  fell  into  a  heavy  stupor,  during  which  all  those 
most  dear  to  me  haunted  my  dreams.  I  thought  that  my 
father  and  mother  were  weeping  over  me ;  I  heard  their 
lamentations,  and  suddenly  I  started  out  of  my  sleep  sobbing 
and  affrighted.  Sometimes,  during  short,  disturbed  slum- 
bers, I  heard  my  mother's  voice,  as  if  consoling  others,  with 
whom  she  came  into  my  prison,  and  she  addressed  me  in  the 
most  affectionate  language  upon  the  duty  of  resignation, 
and  then,  when  I  was  rejoiced  to  see  her  courage,  and  that 
of  others,  suddenly  she  appeared  to  burst  into  tears,  and  all 
wept.  I  can  convey  no  idea  of  the  species  of  agony  which 
I  at  these  times  felt. 

To  escape  from  this  misery,  I  no  longer  went  to  bed.  I 
eat  down  to  read  by  the  light  of  my  lamp,  but  I  could  com- 
prehend nothing,  and  soon  I  found  that  I  was  even  unable 
to  think.  I  next  tried  to  copy  something,  but  still  copied 
something  different  from  what  I  was  writing,  always  recur- 
ring to  the  subject  of  my  afflictions.  If  I  retired  to  rest,  it 
was  worse ;  I  could  lie  in  no  position ;  I  became  convulsed, 
and  was  constrained  to  rise.  In  case  I  slept,  the  same  visions 


96  MY  TEN  TEAKS'   IMPBISONMENT. 

reappeared,  and  made  me  suffer  much  more  than  I  did  by 
keeping  awake.  My  pi-ay  era,  too,  were  feeble  and  ineffectual; 
and,  at  length,  I  could  simply  invoke  the  name  of  the  Deity; 
of  the  Being  who  had  assumed  a  human  form,  and  was  ac- 
quainted with  grief.  I  was  afraid  to  sleep ;  my  prayers 
seemed  to  bring  me  no  relief;  my  imagination  became 
excited,  and,  even  when  awake,  I  heard  strange  noises  close 
to  me,  sometimes  sighs  and  groans,  at  others  mingled  with 
sounds  of  stifled  laughter.  I  was  never  superstitious,  but 
these  apparently  real  and  unaccountable  sights  and  sounds 
led  me  to  doubt,  and  I  then  firmly  believed  that  I  was  the 
victim  of  some  unknown  and  malignant  beings.  Frequently 
I  took  my  light,  and  made  a  search  for  those  mockers  and 
persecutors  of  my  waking  and  sleeping  h«urs.  At  last  they 
began  to  pull  me  by  my  clothes,  threw  my  books  up.on  the 
ground,  blew  out  my  lamp,  and  even,  as  it  seemed,  conveyed 
me  into  another  dungeon.  I  would  then  start  to  my  feet, 
look  and  examine  all  round  me,  and  ask  myself  if  I  were 
really  mad.  The  actual  world,  and  that  of  my  imagination, 
were  no  longer  distinguishable,  I  knew  not  whether  what  I 
saw  and  felt  was  a  delusion  or  truth.  In  this  horrible  slate 
I  could  only  repeat  one  prayer,  "  My  God,  my  God,  why 
hast  thou  forsaken  me  P  " 


CHAPTER  XLVI. 

ONE  morning  early,  I  threw  myself  upon  my  pallet,  having 
first  placed  my  handkerchief,  as  usual,  under  my  pillow. 
Shortly  after,  falling  asleep,  I  suddenly  woke,  and  found 
myself  in  a  state  of  suffocation ;  my  persecutors  were 
strangling  me,  and,  on  putting  my  hand  to  my  throat,  I 
actually  found  my  own  handkerchief,  all  knotted,  tied  round 
my  neck.  I  could  have  sworn  I  had  never  made  those 
knots ;  yet  I  must  have  done  this  in  my  delirium ;  but  as  it 
was  then  impossible  to  believe  it,  I  lived  in  continual  ex- 


MY  TEN  TEARS'  IMPRISONMENT.  97 

pectation  of  being  strangled.  The  recollection  is  still 
horrible.  They  left  me  at  dawn  of  day ;  and,  resuming  my 
courage,  I  no  longer  felt  the  least  apprehension,  and  even 
imagined  it  would  be  impossible  they  should  again  return. 
Yet  no  sooner  did  the  night  set  in,  than  I  was  again  haunted 
by  them  in  all  their  horrors ;  being  made  sensible  of  their 
gradual  approach  by  cold  shiverings,  the  loss  of  all  power, 
with  a  species  of  fascination  which  riveted  both  the  eye 
and  the  mind.  In  fact,  the  more  weak  and  wretched  I  felt, 
at  night,  the  greater  were  my  efforts  during  the  day  to  ap- 
pear cheerful  in  conversing  with  my  companions,  with  the 
two  boys  at  the  palace,  and  with  my  jailers.  No  one  to 
hear  my  jokes,  would  have  imagined  it  possible  that  I  was 
suffering  under  the  disease  I  did.  I  thought  to  encourage 
myself  by  this  forced  merriment,  but  the  spectral  visions 
which  I  laughed  at  by  day  became  fearful  realities  in  the 
hours  of  darkness. 

Had  I  dared,  I  should  have  potitioned  the  commission  to 
change  my  apartment,  but  the  tear  of  ridicule,  in  case  I 
should  be  asked  my  reasons,  lestrained  me.  No  reasonings, 
no  studies,  or  pursuits,  and  even  no  prayers,  were  longer  of 
avail,  and  the  idea  of  being  wholly  abandoned  by  heaven, 
took  possession  of  my  mind. 

All  those  wicked  sophisms  against  a  just  Providence, 
which,  while  in  possession  of  reason,  had  appeared  to  me  so 
vain  and  impious,  now  recurred  with  redoubled  power,  in 
the  form  of  irresistible  arguments.  I  struggled  mightily 
against  this  last  and  greatest  evil  I  had  yet  borne,  and  in 
the  lapse  of  a  few  days  the  temptation  fled.  Still  I  refused 
to  acknowledge  the  truth  and  beauty  of  religion ;  I  quoted 
the  assertions  of  the  most  violent  atheists,  and  those  which 
Julian  had  so  recently  dwelt  upon  :  "  Religion  serves  only 
to  enfeeble  the  mind,  "  was  one  of  these,  and  I  actually 
presumed  that  by  renouncing  my  God  I  should  acquire 
greater  fortitude.  Insane  idea !  I  denied  God,  yet  knew 
D 


98  MY   TEN   TEARS     IMPRISONMENT. 

not  how  to  deny  those  invisible  malevolent  beings,  that  ap- 
peared to  encompass  me,  and  feast  upon  my  sufferings. 

What  slrall  I  call  this  martyrdom  ?  is  it  enough  to  say 
that  it  was  a  disease  ?  or  was  it  a  divine  chastisement  for  my 
pride,  to  teach  me  that  without  a  special  illumination  I 
might  become  as  great  an  unbeliever  as  Julian,  and  still 
more  absurd.  However  this  may  be,  it  pleased  God  to  de- 
liver me  from  such  evil,  when  I  least  expected  it.  One 
morning,  after  taking  my  coffee,  I  was  seized  with  violent 
sickness,  attended  with  colic.  I  imagined  that  I  had  been 
poisoned.  After  excessive  vomiting,  I  burst  into  a  strong 
perspiration  and  retired  to  bed.  About  mid-day  I  fell  asleep, 
and  continued  in  a  quiet  slumber  till  evening.  I  awoke  in 
great  surprise  at  this  unexpected  repose,  and,  thinking  I 
should  not  sleep  again,  I  got  up.  On  rising  I  said,  "  I  shall 
now  have  more  fortitude  to  resist  my  accustomed  terrors.  " 
But  they  returned  no  more.  I  was  in  ecstasies ;  I  threw 
myself  upon  my  knees  in  the  fulness  of  my  heart,  and  again 
prayed  to  my  God  in  spirit  and  in  truth,  beseeching  pardon 
for  having  denied,  during  many  days,  His  holy  name.  It 
was  almost  too  much  for  my  newly  reviving  strength,  and 
while  even  yet  upon  my  knees,  supporting  my  head  against 
a  chair,  I  fell  into  a  profound  sleep  in  that  very  position. 

Some  hours  afterwards,  as  I  conjectured,  I  seemed  in  part 
to  awake,  but  no  sooner  had  I  stretched  my  weary  limbs 
upon  my  rude  couch  than  I  slept  till  the  dawn  of  day. 
The  same  disposition  to  somnolency  continued  through  the 
day,  and  the  next  night,  I  rested  as  soundly  as  before. 
What  was  the  sort  of  crisis  that  had  thus  taken  place?  I 
know  not ;  but  I  was  perfectly  restored. 


MY  TEN  YEARS'  IMPRISONMENT.  99 

CHAPTER  XLVH. 

THB  sickness  of  the  stomach  which  I  had  so  long  laboured 
under  now  ceased,  the  pains  of  the  head  also  left  me,  and  I 
felt  an  extraordinary  appetite.  My  digestion  was  good, 
and  I  gained  strength.  Wonderful  providence !  that  de- 
prived me  of  my  health  to  humhle  my  mind,  and  again  re- 
stored  it  when  the  moment  was  at  hand  that  I  should  re- 
quire it  all,  that  I  might  not  sink  under  the  weight  of  my 
sentence. 

On  the  24th  of  November,  one  of  our  companions,  Dr. 
Foresti,  was  taken  from  the  fiombi,  and  transported  no  one 
knew  whither.  The  jailer,  his  wife,  and  the  assistants, 
were  alike  alarmed,  and  not  one  of  them  ventured  to  throw 
the  least  light  upon  this  mysterious  affair. 

"And  why  should  you  persist,"  said  Tremerello,  "in 
•wishing  to  know,  when  nothing  good  is  to  be  heard  ?  I 
have  told  you  too  much — too  much  already." 

"  Then  what  is  the  use  of  trying  to  hide  it?  I  know  it 
too  well.  He  is  condemned  to  death." 

"  Who  ? he Doctor  Foresti  ?" 

Tremerello  hesitated,  but  the  love  of  gossip  was  not  the 
least  of  his  virtues. 

"  Don't  say,  then,"  he  resumed,  "  that  I  am  a  babbler ; 
I  never  wished  to  say  a  word  about  these  matters ;  so,  re- 
member, it  is  you  who  compel  me." 

"  Yes,  yes,  I  do  compel  you  ;  but  courage !  tell  me  every 
thing  you  know  respecting  the  poor  Doctor  ?  " 

"  Ah,  Sir !  they  have  made  him  cross  the  Bridge  of 
Sighs !  he  lies  in  the  dungeons  of  the  condemned ;  sentence 
of  death  has  been  announced  to  him  and  two  others.", 

"And  will  it  be  executed  ?  When  ?  Oh,  unhappy  man ! 
and  what  are  the  others'  names  ?  " 

"  I  know  no  more.  The  sentences  have  not  been  pub- 
lished. It  is  reported  in  Venice  that  they  will  be  com- 


100  MY  TEN  TEARS'  IMPBISONMENT. 

muted.  I  trust  in  God  they  may,  at  least,  as  regards  the 
good  Doctor.  Do  you  know,  I  am  as  fond  of  that  noble 
fellow,  pardon  the  expression,  as  if  he  were  my  own 
brother." 

He  seemed  moved,  and  walked  away.  Imagine  the  agi- 
tation I  suffered  throughout  the  whole  of  that  day,  and  in- 
deed long  after,  as  there  were  no  means  of  ascertaining  any- 
thing further  respecting  the  fate  of  these  unfortunate  men. 

A  month  elapsed,  and  at  length  the  sentences  connected 
with  the  first  trial  were  published.  Nine  were  condemned 
to  death,  graciously  exchanged  for  hard  imprisonment,  some 
for  twenty,  and  others  for  fifteen  years  in  the  fortress  of 
Spielberg,  near  the  city  of  Brunn,  in  Moravia  ;  while  those 
for  ten  years  and  under  were  to  be  sent  to  the  fortress  of 
Lubiana. 

Were  we  authorised  to  conclude,  from  this  commutation 
of  sentence  in  regard  to  those  first  condemned,  that  the 
parties  subject  to  the  second  trial  would  likewise  be  spared  P 
"Was  the  indulgence  to  be  confined  only  to  the  former,  on 
account  of  their  having  been  arrested  previous  to  the  publi- 
cation of  the  edicts  against  secret  societies;  the  full  ven- 
geance of  the  law  being  reserved  for  subsequent  offenders  ? 

Well,  I  exclaimed,  we  shall  not  long  be  kept  in  suspense ; 
I  am  at  least  grateful  to  Heaven  for  being  allowed  time  to 
prepare  myself  in  a  becoming  manner  for  the  final  scene. 


CHAPTER  XLVIIL 

IT  was  now  my  only  consideration  how  to  die  like  a  Chris- 
tian, and  with  proper  fortitude.  I  felt,  indeed,  a  strong 
temptation  to  avoid  the  scaffold  by  committing  suicide,  but 
overcame  it.  What  merit  is  there  in  refusing  to  die  by  the 
hand  of  the  executioner,  and  yet  to  fall  by  one's  own  ?  To 
save  one's  honour  J*  But  is  it  not  childish  to  suppose  that 
there  can  be  more  honour  in  cheating  the  executioner,  than 


MY  TEN  TEAKS'  IMPRISONMENT.  101 

in  not  doing  this,  when  it  is  clear  that  we  must  die.  Even 
had  I  not  been  a  Christian,  \ipon  serious  reflection,  suicide 
would  have  appeared  to  me  both  ridiculous  and  useless,  if 
not  criminal  in  a  high  degree. 

"  If  the  term  of  life  be  expired,"  continued  I,  "  am  I  not 
fortunate  in  being  permitted  to  collect  my  thoughts  and 
purify  my  conscience  with  penitence  and  prayer  becoming  a 
man  in  affliction.  In  popular  estimation,  the  being  led  to 
the  scaffold  is  the  worst  part  of  death ;  in  the  opinion  of 
the  wise,  is  not  this  far  preferable  to  the  thousand  deaths 
which  daily  occur  by  disease,  attended  by  general  prostra- 
tion of  intellect,  without  power  to  raise  the  thoughts  from 
the  lowest  state  of  physical  exhaustion." 

I  felt  the  justice  of  this  reasoning,  and  lost  all  feeling  of 
anxiety  or  terror  at  the  idea  of  a  public  execution.  I  re- 
flected deeply  on  the  sacraments  calculated  to  support  me 
under  such  an  appalling  trial,  and  I  felt  disposed  to  receive 
them  in  a  right  spirit.  Should  I  have  been  enabled,  had  I 
really  been  conducted  to  the  scaffold,  to  preserve  the  same 
elevation  of  mind,  the  same  forgiveness  of  my  enemies,  the 
same  readiness  to  lay  down  my  life  at  the  will  of  God,  as  I 
then  felt  ?  Alas,  how  inconsistent  is  man  !  when  most  firm 
and  pious,  how  liable  is  he  to  fall  suddenly  into  weakness 
and  crime  !  Is  it  likely  I  should  have  died  worthily  ? 
God  only  knows  ;  I  dare  not  think  well  enough  of  myself 
to  assert  it. 

The  probable  approach  of  death  so  riveted  my  imagina- 
tion, that  not  only  did  it  seem  possible  but  as  if  marked  by 
an  infallible  presentiment.  I  no  longer  indulged  a  hope 
of  avoiding  it,  and  at  every  sound  of  footsteps  and  keys, 
or  the  opening  of  my  door,  I  was  in  the  habit  of  ex- 
claiming :  "  Courage !  Perhaps  I  am  going  to  receive 
sentence.  Let  me  hear  it  with  calm  dignity,  and  bless  the 
name  of  the  Lord." 

I   considered   in  what  terms   I  should  last  address  my 


102  MY  TEN  YEARS'  IMPRISONMENT. 

family,  each  of  my  brothers,  and  each  of  my  sisters,  and  by 
revolving  in  my  mind  these  sacred  and  affecting  duties,  I 
was  often  drowned  in  tears,  without  losing  my  fortitude  and 
resignation. 

I  was  naturally  unable  to  enjoy  sound  repose  ;  but  my 
sleeplessness  was  not  of  the  same  alarming  character  as  be- 
fore ;  no  visions,  spectres,  or  concealed  enemies  were  ready 
to  deprive  me  of  life.  I  spent  the  night  in  calm  and  reviv- 
ing prayer.  Towards  morning  I  was  enabled  to  sleep  for 
about  two  hours,  and  rose  late  to  breakfast. 

One  night  I  had  retired  to  rest  earlier  than  usual ;  I  had 
hardly  slept  a  quarter  of  an  hour,  when  I  awoke,  and 
beheld  an  immense  light  upon  the  wall  opposite  to  me. 
At  first  I  imagined  that  I  had  been  seized  with  my  former 
illness ;  but  this  was  no  illusion.  The  light  shone  through 
the  north  window,  under  which  I  then  lay. 

I  started  up,  seized  my  table,  placed  it  on  my  bed,  and  a 
chair  again  upon  the  table,  by  means  of  all  which  I  mounted 
up,  and  beheld  one  of  the  most  terrific  spectacles  of  fire  that 
can  be  imagined.  It  was  not  more  than  a  musket  shot  dis- 
tant from  our  prison;  it  proceeded  from  the  establishment 
of  the  public  ovens,  and  the  edifice  was  entirely  consumed. 

The  night  was  exceedingly  dark,  and  vast  globes  of  flame 
spouted  forth  on  both  sides,  borne  away  by  a  violent  wind. 
All  around,  it  seemed  as  if  the  sky  rained  sparks  of  fire. 
The  adjacent  lake  reflected  the  magnificent  sight ;  numbers 
of  gondolas  went  and  came,  but  my  sympathy  was  most  ex- 
cited at  the  danger  and  terrors  of  those  who  resided  nearest 
to  the  burning  edifice.  I  heard  the  far  off  voides  of  men 
and  women  calling  to  each  other.  Among  others,  I  caught 
the  name  of  Angiola,  and  of  this  doubtless  there  are  some 
thousands  in  Venice :  yet  I  could  not  help  fearing  it  might 
be  the  one  of  whom  the  recollection  was  so  sweet  to  me. 
Could  it  be  her  ? — was  she  surrounded  by  the  flames  't  how 
I  longed  to  fly  to  her  rescue. 


MY  TEN  TEARS'  IMPRISONMENT.  103 

Full  of  excitement,  wonder,  and  terror,  I  stood  at  the 
window  till  the  day  dawned,  I  then  got  down  op- 
pressed by  a  feeling  of  deep  sorrrow,  and  imagined  much 
greater  misfortune  than  had  really  occurred.  '  I  was  in- 
formed by  Tremerello  that  only  the  ovens  and  the  adjoin- 
ing magazine  had  suffered,  the  loss  consisting  chiefly  of  corn 
and  sacks  of  flour.  

CHAPTER  XLIX. 

THE  effect  of  this  accident  upon  my  imagination  had  not 
yet  ceased,  when  one  night,  as  I  was  sitting  at  my  little 
table  reading,  and  half  perished  with  cold,  I  heard  a  num- 
ber of  voices  not  far  from  me.  They  were  those  of  the 
jailer,  his  wife,  and  sons,  with  the  assistants,  all  crying : 
"  Fire !  fire.  Oh,  blessed  Virgin !  we  are  lost,  we  are 
lost ! " 

I  felt  no  longer  cold,  I  started  to  my  feet  in  a  violent 
perspiration,  and  looked  out  to  discover  the  quarter  from 
which  the  fire  proceeded.  I  could  perceive  nothing,  I  was 
informed,  however,  that  it  arose  in  the  palace  itself,  from 
some  public  chambers  contiguous  to  the  prisons.  One  of 
the  assistants  called  out,  "  But,  sir  governor,  what  shall  we 
do  with  these  caged  birds  here,  if  the  fire  keeps  a  head  ?  " 
The  head  jailer  replied,  "  Why,  I  should  not  like  to  have 
them  roasted  alive.  Yet  I  cannot  let  them  out  of  their  bars 
without  special  orders  from  the  commission.  You  may  run 
as  fast  as  you  can,  and  get  an  order  if  you  can." 

''To  be  sure  I  will,  but,  you  know,  it  will  be  too  late  for 
the  prisoners." 

All  this  was  said  in  the  rude  Venetian  dialect,  but  I 
understood  it  too  well.  And  now,  where  was  all  my  heroic 
spirit  and  resignation,  which  I  had  counted  upon  to  meet 
sudden  death  ••  "Why  did  the  idea  of  being  burnt  alive 
throw  me  into  such  a  fever  ?  I  felt  ashamed  of  this  un- 
worthy fear,  and  though  just  on  the  point  of  crying  out  to 


104  MY  TEN  YEARS'  IMPRISONMENT. 

the  jailer  to  let  me  out,  I  restrained  myself,  reflecting  that 
there  might  be  as  little  pleasure  in  being  strangled  as  in 
being  burnt.  Still  I  felt  really  afraid. 

"  Here,"  said  I,  "  is  a  specimen  of  my  courage,  should  I 
escape  the  flames,  and  be  doomed  to  mount  the  scaffold.  I 
will  restrain  my  fear,  and  hide  it  from  others  as  well  as  I 
can,  though  I  know  I  shall  tremble.  Yet  surely  it  is  cour- 
age to  behave  as  if  we  were  not  afraid,  whatever  we  may 
feel.  Is  it  not  generosity  to  give  away  that  which  it  • 
us  much  to  part  with?  It  is,  also,  an  act  of  obedien ••••, 
though  we  obey  with  great  repugnance." 

The  tumult  in  the  jailer's  house  was  so  loud  and  con- 
tinued that  I  concluded  the  fire  was  on  the  increase.  The 
messenger  sent  to  ask  permission  for  our  temporary  release 
had  not  returned.  At  last  I  thought  I  heard  his  voice;  no; 
I  listened,  he  is  not  come.  Probably  the  permission  will 
not  be  granted ;  there  will  be  no  means  of  escape ;  if  the 
jailer  should  not  humanely  take  the  responsibility  upon 
himself,  we  shall  be  suffocated  in  our  dungeons !  Well,  but 
this,  I  exclaimed,  is  not  philosophy,  and  it  is  not  religion. 
"Were  it  not  better  to  prepare  myself  to  witness  the  flames 
bursting  into  my  chamber,  and  about  to  swallow  me  up. 

Meantime  the  clamour  seemed  to  diminish ;  by  degrees  it 
died  away ;  was  this  any  proof  that  the  fire  had  ceased  P 
Or,  perhaps,  all  who  could  had  already  fled,  and  left  the 
prisoners  to  their  fate. 

The  silence  continued,  no  flames  appeared,  and  I  retired 
to  bed,  reproaching  myself  for  the  want  of  fortitude  I  had 
evinced.  Indeed,  I  began  to  regret  that  I  had  not  been 
burnt  alive,  instead  of  being  handed  over,  as  a  victim,  into 
the  hands  of  men. 

The  next  morning,  I  learnt  the  real  cause  of  the  fire  from 
Tremerello,  and  laughed  at  his  account  of  the  fear  he  had 
endured,  as  if  my  own  had  not  been  as  great — perhaps,  in 
fact,  much  greater  of  tlu1  two. 


MY  TEN  YEARS'  IMPRISONMENT.  105 

CHAPTER  L. 

ON  the  llth  of  January,  1822,  ahout  nine  in  the  morning, 
Tremerello  came  into  my  room  in  no  little  agitation,  and 
said, 

"  Do  you  know,  Sir,  that  in  the  island  of  San  Michele,  a 
little  way  from  Venice,  there  is  a  prison  containing  more 
than  a  hundred  Carbonari." 

"  You  have  told  me  so  a  hundred  times.  Well !  what 
would  you  have  me  hear,  speak  out ;  are  some  of  them  con- 
demned ?  " 

"  Exactly." 

"Who  are  they?" 

"  I  don't  know." 

"  Is  my  poor  friend  Maroncelli  among  them  ?  " 

"  Ah,  Sir,  too  many  ...  I  know  not  who."  And  he 
went  away  in  great  emotion,  casting  on  me  a  look  of  com- 
passion. 

Shortly  after  came  the  jailer,  attended  by  the -assistants, 
and  by  a  man  whom  I  had  never  before  seen.  The  latter 
opened  his  subject  as  follows :  "  The  commission,  Sir,  has 
given  orders  that  you  come  with  me ! " 

"Let  us  go,  then,''  I  replied;  "may  I  ask  who  you 
are?" 

"  I  am  jailer  of  the  San  Michele  prisons,  where  I  am 
goin<£  to  take  you." 

The  jailer  of  the  Piombi  delivered  to  the  new  governor 
the  money  belonging  to  me  which  he  had  in  his  hands.  I 
obtained  permission  to  make  some  little  present  to  the  under 
jailers ;  I  then  put  my  clothes  in  order,  put  my  Bible  under 
my  arm,  and  departed.  In  descending  the  immense  track 
of  staircases,  Tremerello  for  a  moment  took  my  hand ;  he 
pressed  it  as  much  as  to  say,  "  Unhappy  man !  you  are 
lost." 

We  came  out  at  a  gate  which  opened  upon  the  lake,  and 


106  MT  TEN  YEARS'  IMPRISONMENT. 

there  stood  a  gondola  with  two  under  jailers  belonging  to 
San  Michele. 

I  entered  the  boat  with  feelings  of  the  most  contradictory 
nature  ;  regret  at  leaving  the  prison  of  the  Piombi,  where  I 
had  suffered  so  much,  but  where  I  had  become  attached  to 
some  individuals,  and  they  to  me ;  the  pleasure  of  beholding 
once  more  the  sky,  the  city,  and  the  clear  waters,  without 
the  intervention  of  iron  bars.  Add  to  this  the  recollection 
of  that  joyous  gondola,  which,  in  time  past,  had  borne  me 
on  the  bosom  of  that  placid  lake  ;  the  gondolas  of  the  lake 
of  Como,  those  of  Lago  Maggiore,  the  little  barks  of  the  Po, 
those  of  the  Hodano,  and  of  the  Sonna !  Oh,  happy 
vanished  years  !  who,  who  then  so  happy  in  the  world 
as  I? 

The  son  of  excellent  and  affectionate  parents,  in  a  rank  of 
life,  perhaps,  the  happiest  for  the  cultivation  of  the  affec- 
tions, being  equally  removed  from  riches  and  from  paverty; 
I  had  spent  my.  infancy  in  the  participation  of  the  sweetest 
domestic  ties ;  had  been  the  object  of  the  tenderest  domestic 
cares.  I  had  subsequently  gone  to  Lyons,  to  my  maternal 
uncle,  an  elderly  man,  extremely  wealthy,  and  deserving  of 
all  he  possessed ;  and  at  his  mansion  I  partook  of  all  the 
advantages  and  delights  of  elegance  and  refined  society, 
which  gave  an  indescribable  charm  to  those  youthful  days. 
Thence  returning  into  Italy,  under  the  parental  roof,  I  at 
once  devoted  myself  with  ardour  to  study,  and  the  enjoy- 
ment of  society ;  everywhere  meeting  with  distinguished 
friends  and  the  most  encouraging  praise.  Monti  and 
Foscolo,  although  at  variance  with  each  other,  were  kind  to 
me.  I  became  more  attached  to  the  latter,  and  this  irritable 
man,  who,  by  his  asperities,  provoked  so  many  to  quarrel 
with  him,  was  with  me  full  of  gentleness  and  cordiality. 
Other  distinguished  characters  likewise  became  attached  to 
me,  and  I  returned  all  their  regard.  Neither  envy  nor 
calumny  had  the  least  influence  over  me,  or  I  felt  it  only 


MY  TEN  YEARS'  IMPRISONMENT.  107 

from  persons  who  had  not  the  power  to  injure  me.  On  the 
fall  of  the  kingdom  of  Italy,  my  father  removed  to  Turin, 
with  the  rest  of  his  family.  I  had  preferred  to  remain  at 
Milan,  where  I  spent  my  time  at  once  so  profitably  and 
so  happily  as  made  me  unwilling  to  leave  it.  Here  I  had 
three  friends  to  whom  I  was  greatly  attached — D.  Pietro 
Borsieri,  Lodovico  di  Breme,  and  the  Count  Luigi  Porro 
Lambertenghi.  Subsequently  I  added  to  them  Count 
Federigo  Confalonieri.*  Becoming  the  preceptor  of  two 
young  sons  of  Count  Porro,  I  was  to  them  as  a  father,  and 
their  father  acted  like  a  brother  to  me.  His  mansion  was 
the  resort  not  only  of  society  the  most  refined  and  cultivated 
of  Italy,  but  of  numbers  of  celebrated  strangers.  It  was 
there  I  became  acquainted  with  De  Stael,  Schlegel,  Davis, 
Byron,  Brougham,  Hobhouse,  and  illustrious  travellers  from 
all  parts  of  Europe.  How  delightful,  how  noble,  an 
incentive  to  all  that  is  great  and  good,  is  an  intercourse 
with  men  of  first-rate  merit !  I  was  then  happy  ;  I  would 
not  have  exchanged  my  lot  with  a  prince  ;  and  now,  to  be 
hurled,  as  I  had  been,  from  the  summit  of  all  my  hopes  and 
prospects,  into  an  abyss  of  wretchedness,  and  to  be  hurried 
thus  from  dungeon  to  dungeon,  to  perish  doubtless  either  by 
a  violent  death  or  lingering  in  chains. 

*  Respecting  Pietro  Borsieri,  Lodovico  di  Breme,  and  Count 
Porro,  mention  has  already  been  made.  The  Count  Federico  Con- 
falonieri, of  an  illustrious  family  of  Milan,  a  man  of  immense  intel- 
lect, and  the  firmest  courage,  was  also  the  most  zealous  promoter 
of  popular  institutions  in  Lombardy.  The  Austrian  Government, 
becoming  aware  of  the  aversion  entertained  by  the  Count  for  the 
foreign  yoke  which  pressed  so  heavily  upon  his  country,  had  him 
seized  and  handed  over  to  the  special  commissions,  which  sat  in  the 
years  1822  and  1823.  By  these  he  was  condemned  to  the  severest  of 
all  punishments — imprisonment  for  life,  in  the  fortress  of  Spiel- 
berg,  where,  during  six  months  of  each  weary  year,  he  is  com- 
pelled by  the  excess  of  his  sufferings  to  lie  stretched  upon  a 
wretched  pallet,  more  dead  than  alive. 


108  MY  TEN  TEARS'  IMPRISONMENT. 

CHAPTER  LI. 

ABSORBED  in  reflections  like  these,  I  reached  San  Michele, 
and  was  locked  up  in  a  room  which  embraced  a  view  of  the 
court  yard,  of  the  lake,  and  the  beautiful  island  of  Murano. 
I  inquired  respecting  Maroncelli  from  the  jailer,  from  his 
wife,  and  the  four  assistants ;  but  their  visits  were  exceed- 
ingly brief,  very  ceremonious,  and,  in  fact,  they  would  tell 
me  nothing. 

Nevertheless  where  there  are  five  or  BIX  persons,  it  ia 
rarely  you  do  not  find  one  who  possesses  a  compassionate, 
as  well  as  a  communicative  disposition.  I  met  with  such  a 
one,  and  from  him  I  learnt  what  follows  : — 

Maroncelli,  after  having  been  long  kept  apart,  had  been 
placed  with  Count  Camillo  Laderchi.*  The  last,  within  a 
few  days,  had  been  declared  innocent,  and  discharged  from 
prison,  and  the  former  again  remained  alone.  Some  other 
of  our  companion  s  had  also  been  set  at  liberty ;  the  Professor 
Kornagnosi,t  and  Count  Giovanni  Arrivabene.J  Captain 

*  The  Count  Camillo  Laderchi,  a  member  of  one  of  the  most 
distinguished  families  of  Faenza,  and  formerly  prefect  in  the  ex- 
kingdom  of  Italy. 

t  Gian  Domenico  Romagnosi,  a  native  of  Piacenza,  was  for  some 
years  Professor  of  Criminal  Law,  in  the  University  of  Pavia.  He 
is  the  author  of  several  philosophical  works,  but  more  especially  of 
the  Genesi  del  Dirilto  Fenale,  which  spread  his  reputation  both 
throughout  and  beyond  Italy.  Though  at  an  advanced  age,  he  was 
repeatedly  imprisoned  and  examined  on  the  charge  of  having  be- 
longed to  a  lodge  of  Freemasons ;  a  charge  advanced  against  him 
by  an  ungrateful  Tyrolese,  who  had  initiated  him  into,  aud  fa- 
voured him  as  a  fellow-member  of,  the  same  society,  and  who  had 
the  audacity  actually  to  sit  as  judge  upon  his  friend's  trial. 

J  The  Count  Giovanni  Arrivabene,  of  Mantua,  who,  being  in  pos- 
session of  considerable  fortune,  made  an  excellent  use  of  it,  both  as 
regarded  private  acts  of  benevolence,  aud  the  maintenance  of  a 
school  of  mutual  instruction.  But  having  more  recently  fallen 
under  the  displeasure  of  the  Government,  he  abandoned  Italy,  and 
during  his  exile  employed  himself  in  writing,  with  rare  im. 


MY  TEN  YEARS'  IMPRISONMENT.  109 

Rezia  *  and  the  Signor  Canova  were  together.  Professor 
Ressi  t  "was  dying  at  that  time,  .in  a  prison  next  to  that  of  the 
two  before  mentioned.  "  It  follows  then,"  said  I,  "  that 
the  sentences  of  those  not  set  at  liberty  must  have  arrived. 
How  are  they  to  be  made  known  ?  Perhaps,  poor  Resai 
will  die  ;  and  will  not  be  in  a  state  to  hear  his  sentence ;  is 
it  true  ?  " 

"  I  believe  it  is." 

Every  day  I  inquired  respecting  the  unhappy  man.  "  He 
has  lost  his  voice ;  he  is  rather  better ;  he  is  delirious  ;  he  is 
nearly  gone  ;  he  spits  blood ;  he  is  dying ; "  were  the  usual 
replies;  till  at  length  came  the  last  of  all,  "He  is  dead." 

I  shed  a  tear  to  his  memory,  and  consoled  myself  with 
thinking  that  he  died  ignorant  of  the  sentence  which 
awaited  him. 

The  day  following,  the  21st  of  February,  1822,  the  jailer 
came  for  me  about  ten  o'clock,  and  conducted  me  into  the 
Hall  of  the  Commission.  The  members  were  all  seated,  but 
they  rose  ;  the  President,  the  Inquisitor,  and  two  assisting 
Judges. — The  first,  with  a  look  of  deep  commiseration,  ac- 
quainted me  that  my  sentence  had  arrived ;  that  it  was  a 

partiality,  and  admirable  judgment,  a  work  which  must  be  con- 
sidered interesting  to  all  engaged  in  alleviating  the  ills  of  humanity, 
both  here  and  in  other  countries.  It  is  entitled,  Delia  Sociefa  di 
Publica  Beneftcenza  in  Londra. 

•  The  Capitano  Rezia,  one  of  the  best  artillery  officers  in  the 
Italian  army,  son  of  Professor  Rezia,  the  celebrated  anatomist, 
whose  highly  valuable  preparations  and  specimens  are  to  be  seen  in 
the  Anatomical  Museum  at  Pavia. 

t  The  Professor  Ressi,  who  occupied,  during  several  years,  the 
.chair  of  Political  Economy  in  the  University  at  Pavia.  He  is  the 
author  of  a  respectable  work,  published  under  the  title  of  Econo- 
mica  della  Specie  Umana.  Having  unfortunately  attracted  the 
suspicions  of  the  Austrian  police,  he  was  seized  and  committed  to  a 
dungeon,  in  which  he  died,  about  a  year  from  the  period  of  his 
arrest,  and  while  the  special  examinations  of  the  alleged  con. 
spirators  were  being  held. 


110  MY  TEN  TEARS'  IMPRISONMENT. 

terrible  one ;  but  that  the  clemency  of  the  Emperor  had 
mitigated  it. 

The  Inquisitor,  fixing  his  eye  on  me,  then  read  it : — 
'  Silvio  Pellico,  condemned  to  death ;  the  imperial  decree  is, 
that  the  sentence  be  commuted  for  fifteen  years  hard 
imprisonment  in  the  fortress  of  Spielberg." 
"  The  will  of  God  be  done  ! "  was  my  reply.  ' 
It  was  really  my  intention  to  bear  this  horrible  blow  like 
a"  Christian,  and  neither  to  exhibit  nor  to  feel  resentment 
against  any  one  whatever.  The  President  then  commended 
my  state  of  mind,  warmly  recommending  me  to  persevere 
in  it,  and  that  possibly  by  affording  an  edifying  example, 
I  might  in  a  year  or  two  be  deemed  worthy  of  receiving 
further  favours  from  the  imperial  clemency. 

Instead,  however,  of  one  or  two,  it  was  many  years 
before  the  full  sentence  was  remitted. 

The  other  judges  also  spoke  encouragingly  to  me.  One 
of  them,  indeed,  had  appeared  my  enemy  on  my  trial, 
accosting  me  in  a  courteous  but  ironical  tone,  while  his  look 
of  insulting  triumph  seemed  to  belie  his  words.  I  would 
not  make  oath  it  was  so,  but  my  blood  was  then  boiling,  and 
I  was  trying  to  smother  my  passion.  While  they  were 
praising  me  for  my  Christian  patience,  I  had  not  a  jot  of  it 
left  me.  "  To-morrow,"  continued  the  Inquisitor,  "  I  am 
sorry  to  say,  you  must  appear  and  receive  your  sentence  in 
public.  It  is  a  formality  which  cannot  be  dispensed 
with." 

"  Be  it  so !"  I  replied. 

"From  this  time  we  grant  you  the  company  of  your 
friend,"  he  added.  Then  calling  the  jailer,  he  consigned 
me  into  his  hands,  ordering  that  I  should  be  placed  in  the 
same  dungeon  with  Maroncelli, 


MY  TEN  TEARS'  IMPRISONMENT.  Ill 


CHAPTER  LII. 

IT  was  a  delightful  moment,  when,  after  a  separation  of 
three  months,  and  having  suffered  so  greatly,  I  met  my  friend. 
For  some  moments  we  forgot  even  the  severity  of  our  sen- 
tence, conscious  only  of  each  other's  presence. 

But  I  soon  turned  from  my  friend  to  perform  a  more 
serious  duty — that  of  writing  to  my  father.  I  was  desirous 
that  the  first  tidings  of  my  sad  lot  should  reach  my  family 
from  myself ;  in  order  that  the  grief  which  I  knew  they 
would  all  feel  might  be  at  least  mitigated  by  hearing  my 
state  of  mind,  and  the  sentiments  of  peace  and  religion  by 
which  I  was  supported.  The  judges  had  given  me  a  pro- 
mise to  expedite  the  letter  the  moment  it  was  written. 

Maroncelli  next  spoke  to  me  respecting  his  trial ;  I 
acquainted  him  with  mine,  and  we  mutually  described  our 
prison  walks  and  adventures,  complimenting  each  other 
on  our  peripatetic  philosophy.  We  approached  our  win- 
dow, and  saluted  three  of  our  friends,  whom  we  beheld 
standing  at  theirs.  Two  of  these  were  Canova  and  Rezia, 
in  the  same  apartment ;  the  first  of  whom  was  condemned 
to  six  years'  hard  imprisonment,  and  the  last  to  three. 
The  third  was  Doctor  Cesare  Armari,  who  had  been  my 
neighbour  some  preceding  months,  in  the  prisons  of  the 
Piombi.  He  was  not,  however,  among  the  condemned,  and 
soon  obtained  his  liberty. 

The  power  of  communicating  with  one  or  other  of  our 
fellow-prisoners,  at  all  hours,  was  a  great  relief  to  our 
feelings.  But  when  buried  in  silence  and  darkness,  I  was 
unable  to  compose  myself  to  rest ;  I  felt  my  head  burn,  and 
my  heart  bleed,  as  my  thoughts  reverted  to  home.  Would 
my  aged  parents  be  enabled  to  bear  up  against  so  heavy  a 
misfortune  ?  would  they  find  a  sufficient  resource  in  their 
other  children  ?  They  were  equally  attached  to  all,  and  I 
valued  myself  least  of  all  in  that  family  of  love  i  but  will 


112  MT  TEN  TEARS'  IMPRISONMENT. 

a  father  and  a  mother  ever  find  in  the  children  that 
remain  to  them  a  compensation  for  the  one  of  whom  they 
are  deprived. 

Had  I  dwelt  only  upon  my  relatives  and  a  few  other 
dear  friends,  much  as  I  regretted  them,  my  thoughts 
wou'.d  have  been  less  bitter  than  they  were.  But  1 
thought  of  the  insulting  smile  of  that  judge,  of  the  trial, 
the  cause  of  the  respective  sentences,  political  passions  and 

enmities,  and  the  fate  of  so  many  of  my  friends, It 

was  then  I  could  no  longer  think  with  patience  or  indul- 
gence of  any  of  my  persecutors.  God  had  subjected  me  to 
a  severe  trial,  and  it  was  my  duty  to  have  borne  it  with 
courage.  Alas  !  I  was  neither  able  nor  willing.  The 
pride  and  luxury  of  hatred  pleased  me  better  than  the 
noble  spirit  of  forgiveness ;  and  I  passed  a  night  of  horror 
after  receiving  sentence. 

In  the  morning  I  could  not  -pray.  The  universe 
appeared  to  me,  then,  to  be  the  work  of  some  power,  the 
enemy  of  good.  I  had  previously,  indeed,  been  guilty  of 
calumniating  my  Creator  ;  but  little  did  I  imagine  I 
should  revert  to  such  ingratitude,  and  in  so  brief  a  time. 
Julian,  in  his  most  impious  moods,  could  not  express  him- 
self more  impiously  than  myself.  To  gloat  over  thoughts 
of  hatred,  or  fierce  revenge,  when  smarting  under  the 
scourge  of  heaviest  calamity,  instead  of  flying  to  religion  as 
a  refuge,  renders  a  man  criminal,  even  though  his  cause  be 
just.  If  we  bate,  it  is  a  proof  of  rank  pride  ;  and  where  is 
the  wretched  mortal  that  dare  stand  up  and  declare  in  the 
face  of  Heaven,  his  title  to  hatred  and  revenge  against  hia 
fellows  ?  to  assert  that  none  have  a  right  to  sit  in  judgment 
upon  him  and  his  actions  ; — that  none  can  injure  him  with- 
out a  bad  intention,  or  a  violation  of  all  justice  ?  In  short, 
he  dares  to  arraign  the  decrees  of  Heaven  itself,  if  it  ploase 
Providence  to  make  him  suffer  in  a  manner  which  he  does 
not  himself  approve. 


MY  TEN  YEARS'  IMPRISONMENT.  113 

Still  I  was  unhappy  because  I  could  not  pray  ;  for  when 
pride  reigns  supreme,  it  acknowledges  no  other  god  than 
the  self-idol  it  has  created.  How  I  could  have  wished  to 
recommend  to  the  Supreme  Protector,  the  care  of  my  be- 
reaved parents,  though  at  that  unhappy  moment  I  felt  aa  if 
I  no  more  believed  in  Him. 


CHAPTER  Lin.       • 

Ax  nine  in  the  morning  Maroncelli  and  I  were  conducted  into 
the  gondola  which  conveyed  us  into  the  city.  We  alighted  at 
the  palace  of  the  Doge,  and  proceeded  to  the  prisons.  We 
•were  placed  in  the  apartment  which  had  been  occupied  by 
Signor  Caporali  a  few  days  before,  but  with  whose  fate  we 
were  not  acquainted.  Nine  or  ten  sbirri  were  placed  over  us 
as  a  guard,  and  walking  about,  we  awaited  the  moment  of 
being  brought  into  the  square.  There  was  considerable 
delay.  The  Inquisitor  did  not  make  his  appearance  till 
noon,  and  then  informed  us  that  it  was  time  to  go.  The 
phvsician,  also,  presented  himself,  and  advised  us  to  take  a 
small  glass  of  mint-water,  which  we  accepted  on  account 
of  the  extreme  compassion  which  the  good  old  man  ex- 
pressed for  us.  It  was  Dr.  Dosmo.  Tbe  head  bailiff  then 
advanced  and  fixed  the  hand-cuffs  upon  us.  We  followed 
him,  accompanied  by  the  other  bailiffs. 

We  next  descended  the  magnificent  staircase  of  the 
Giganti,  and  we  called  to  mind  the  old  Doge  Faliero,  who 
was  beheaded  there.  We  entered  through  the  great  gate 
which  opens  upon  the  small  square  from  the  court-yard  of 
the  palace,  and  we  then  turned  to  the  left,  in  the  direction 
of  the  lake.  In  the  centre  of  the  small  square  was  raised 
the  scaffold  which  we  were  to  ascend.  From  the  staircase 
of  the  Giganti,  extending  to  the  scaffold,  were  two  lines  of 
Austrian  soldiers,  through  which  we  passed. 

After  ascending  the  platform,  we  looked  around  us,  and 


114  MY   TEN  YEABS*   IMPRISONMENT. 

saw  an  immense  assembly  of  people,  apparently  struck  with 
terror.  In  other  directions  were  seen  bands  of  armed  men, 
to  awe  the  multitude ;  and  we  were  told  that  cannon  were 
loaded  in  readiness  to  be  discharged  at  a  moment's  notice. 
I  was  now  exactly  in  the  spot  where,  in  September,  1820, 
just  a  month  previous  to  my  arrest,  a  mendicant  had 
observed  to  me,  "  This  is  a  place  of  misfortune." 

I  called  to  mind  the  circumstance,  and  reflected  that  very 
possibly  in  that  immense  throng  of  spectators  the  same 
person  might  be  present,  and  perhaps  even  recognise  me. 

The  German  Captain  now  called  out  to  us  to  turn  towards 
the  palace,  and  look  up ;  we  did  so,  and  beheld,  upon  the 
lodge,  a  messenger  of  the  Council,  with  a  letter  in  his 
hand ;  it  was  the  sentence ;  he  began  to  read  it  in  a  loud  voice. 

It  was  ushered  in  by  solemn  silence,  which  was  continued 
until  he  came  to  the  words,  Condemned  to  death.  There  was 
then  heard  one  general  murmur  of  compassion.  This  was 
followed  by  a  similar  silence,  in  order  to  hear  the  rest  of  the 
document.  A  fresh  murmur  arose  on  the  announcement  of 
the  following: — condemned  to  hard  imprisonment,  Maron- 
celli  for  twenty  years,  and  Pellico  for  fifteen. 

The  Captain  made  a  sign  for  us  to  descend.  We  cast  one 
glance  around  us,  and  came  down.  We  re-entered  the 
court-yard,  mounted  the  great  staircase,  and  were  conducted 
into  the  room  from  which  we  had  been  dragged.  The 
manacles  were  removed,  and  we  were  soon  reconducted  to 
San  Michele. 

CHAPTER   LIV. 

THE  prisoners  who  had  been  condemned  before  us  -had 
already  set  out  for  Lubiana  and  Spielberg,  accompanied  by 
a  commissary  of  police.  He  was  now  expected  back,  in 
order  to  conduct  us  to  our  destination ;  but  the  interval  of  a 
month  elapsed. 

My  time  was  chiefly  spent  in  talking,  and  listening  to  the 


MY  TEN  YEARS'  IMPRISONMENT.  115 

conversation  of  others,  in  order  to  distract  my  attention. 
Maroncelli  read  me  some  of  his  literary  productions,  and  in 
turn,  I  read  him  mine.  One  evening  I  read  from  the  window 
my  play  of  Ester  d'Engaddi,  to  Canova,  Kezia,  and  Annari ; 
and  the  following  evening,  the  Iginia  ffA&ti.  During  the 
night,  however,  I  grew  irritable  and  wretched,  and  was 
unable  to  sleep.  I  both  desired  and  feared  to  learn  in  what 
manner  the  tidings  of  my  calamity  had  been  received  by  my 
family. 

At  length  I  got  a  letter  from  my  father,  and  was  grieved 
to  find,  from  the  date,  that  my  last  to  him  had  not  been 
sent,  as  I  had  requested  of  the  Inquisitor,  immediately  I 
Thus  my  unhappy  father,  while  flattering  himself  that  I 
should  be  set  at  liberty,  happening  to  take  up  the  Milan 
Gazette,  read  the  horrid  sentence  which  I  had  just  received 
upon  the  scaffold.  He  himself  acquainted  me  with  this  fact, 
and  left  me  to  infer  what  his  feelings  must  have  been  on 
meeting  thus  suddenly  with  the  sad  news.  I  cannot  express 
the  contempt  and  anger  I  felt  on  learning  that  my  letter 
had  been  kept  back ;  and  how  deeply  I  felt  for  all  my  poor 
unhappy  family.  There  was  doubtless  no  malice  in  this 
delay,  but  I  looked  upon  it  as  a  refinement  of  the  most 
atrocious  barbarity ;  an  eager,  infernal  desire  to  seethe  iron 
enter,  as  it  were,  the  very  soul  of  my  beloved  and  innocent 
relatives.  I  felt,  indeed,  as  if  I  could  have  delighted  to  shed 
a  sea  of  blood,  could  I  only  punish  this  flagrant  and  pre- 
meditated inhumanity. 

Now  that  I  judge  calmly,  I  find  it  very  improbable.  The1 
delay,  doubtless,  was  simply  owing  to  inadvertency  on  the 
part  of  subordinate  agents.  Enraged  as  I  was,  I  heard  with 
still  more  excited  feelings  that  my  companions  were  about, 
to  celebrate  Easter  week  ere  their  departure.  As  for  me,  1 
considered  it  wholly  impossible,  inasmuch  as  I  felt  not  th& 
least  disposition  towards  forgiveness.  Should  I  be  guilty 
of  such  a  scandal ! 


116  MY  TEN  TEAKS' 


CHAPTER  LV. 

AT  length  the  German  commissioner  arrived,  and  came  to 
acquaint  us  that  within  two  days  we  were  to  set  out.  "  I 
have  the  pleasure,"  he  added,  "to  give  you  some  consoling 
tidings.  On  my  return  from  Spielberg,  I  saw  his  majesty 
the  Emperor  at  Vienna,  who  acquainted  me  that  the  penal 
days  appointed  you  will  not  extend  to  twenty-four  hours, 
but  only  to  twelve.  By  this  expression  it  is  intended  to 
signify  that  the  pain  will  he  divided,  or  half  the  punishment 
remitted."  This  division  was  never  notified  to  us  in  an 
official  form,  but  there  is  no  reason  to  suppose  that  the 
commissioner  would  state  an  untruth ;  the  less  so  as  he 
made  no  secret  of  the  information,  which  was  known  to  the 
whole  commission.  Nevertheless,  I  could  not  congratulate 
myself  upon  it.  To  my  feelings,  seven  years  and  a  half  had 
little  more  horrible  in  them  (to  be  spent  in  chains  and 
solitude)  than  fifteen ;  for  I  conceived  it  to  be  impossible  to 
survive  so  long  a  period.  My  health  had  recently  again 
become  wretched!  I  suffered  from  severe  pains  of  the 
chest,  attended  with  cough,  and  thought  my  lungs  were 
affected.  I  ate  little,  and  that  little  I  could  not  digest. 
Our  departure  took  place  on  the  night  of  the  2oth  of  March. 
We  were  permitted  to  take  leave  of  our  friend,  Cesare 
Armari.  A  sbirro  chained  us  in  a  transverse  manner, 
namely,  the  right  hand  and  the  left  foot,  so  as  to  render  it 
•impossible  for  us  to  escape. 

We  went  into  a  gondola,  and  the  guards  rowed  us  towards 
Fusina.  On  our  arrival  we  found  two  boats  in  readiness 
for  us.  Eezia  and  Canova  were  placed  in  one,  and  Maron- 
celli  and  myself  in  the  other.  The  commissary  was  also 
with  two  of  the  prisoners,  and  an  under-commissary  with  the 
others.  Six  or  seven  guards  of  police  completed  our  convoy ; 
they  were  armed  with  swords  and  muskets';  some  of  them 
at  hand  in  the  boats,  others  in  the  box  of  the  Vetturino. 


MY  TEN  TEARS'  IMPRISONMENT.  117 

To  be  compelled  by  misfortune  to  leave  one's  country  is 
always  sufficiently  painful ;  but  to  be  torn  from  it  in  chains, 
doomed  to  exile  in  a  horrible  climate,  to  linger  days,  and 
hours,  and  years,  in  solitary  dungeons,  is  a  fate  so  appalling 
as  to  defy  language  to  convey  the  remotest  idea  of  it. 

Ere  we  had  traversed  the  Alps,  I  felt  that  my  country 
was  becoming  doubly  deur  to  me ;  the  sympathy  we 
awakened  on  every  side,  from  all  ranks,  formed  an  irre- 
sistible appeal  to  my  affection  and  gratitude.  In  every 
city,  in  every  village,  in  every  group  of  meanest  houses,  the 
news  of  our  condemnation  had  been  known  for  some  weeks, 
and  we  were  expected.  In  several  places  the  commissioners 
and  the  guards  had  difficulty  in  dispersing  the  crowd 
which  surrounded  us.  It  was  astonishing  to  witness  the 
benevolent  and  humane  feeling  generally  manifested  in  our 
behalf. 

In  Udine  we  met  with  a  singular  and  touching  incident. 
On  airiving  at  the  inn,  the  commissary  caused  the  door  of 
the  court- yard  to  be  closed,  in  order  to  keep  back  the  people. 
A  room  was  assigned  us,  and  he  ordered  the  waiters  to  bring 
supper,  and  make  such  accommodation  as  we  required  for 
repose.  In  a  few  moments  three  men  entered  with  mat- 
tresses upon  their  shoulders.  What  was  our  surprise  to  see 
that  only  one  of  them  was  a  servant  of  the  inn ;  the  other 
two  were  our  acquaintance.  We  pretended  to  assist  them 
in  placing  the  beds,  and  had  time  to  recognise  and  give  each 
other  the  hand  of  fellowship  and  sympathy.  It  was  too 
much ;  the  tears  started  to  our  eyes.  Ah  !  how  trying  was 
it  to  us  all,  not  to  be  allowed  the  sad  satisfaction  even  of 
shedding  them  in  a  last  embrace. 

The  commissaries  were  not  aware  of  the  circumstance ; 
but  I  had  reason  to  think  that  one  of  the  guards  saw  into 
the  affair,  just  as  the  good  Dario  grasped  me  by  the  hand. 
He  was  a  Venetian ;  he  fixed  his  eyes  upon  us  both ;  be 
turned  pale ;  appeared  in  the  act  of  making  an  alarm,  then 


118  MY  TEN  TEAKS'  IMPRISONMENT. 

turned  away  his  eyes,  as  if  pretending  not  to  see  us.  If  he 
felt  not  assured  that  they  were  indeed  our  friends,  he  must 
have  believed  them  to  be  some  waiters  with  whom  we  were 
acquainted.  

CHAPTER  LVI. 

THE  next  morning  we  left  Udine  by  dawn  of  day.  The 
affectionate  Dario  was  already  in  the  street,  wrapped  in  his 
mantle  ;  ho  beckoned  to  us  and  followed  us  a  long  way.  A 
coach  also  continued  at  some  little  distance  from  us  for 
several  miles.  Some  one  waved  a  handkerchief  from  it,  till 
it  turned  back ;  who  could  it  have  been  ?  We  had  our  own 
conjectures  on  the  subject.  May  Heaven  protect  those 
generous  spirits  that  thus  cease  not  to  love,  and  express 
their  love  for  the  unfortunate.  I  had  the  more  reason  to 
prize  them  from  the  fact  of  having  met  with  cowards,  who, 
not  content  with  denying  me,  thought  to  benefit  themselves 
by  calumniating  their  once  fortunate  friend.  These  cases, 
however,  were  rare,  while  those  of  the  former,  to  the 
honour  of  the  human  character,  were  numerous. 

I  had  supposed  that  the  warm  sympathy  expressed  for  us 
in  Italy  would  cease  when  we  entered  on  a  foreign  soil. 
But  I  was  deceived;  the  good  man  is  ever  the  fellow- 
countryman  of  the  unhappy !  When  traversing  Illyrian 
and  German  ground,  it  was  the  same  as  in  our  own  country. 
There  was  the  same  general  lamentation  at  our  fate ;  "  Arme 
herren !  "  poor  gentlemen,  was  on  the  lips  of  all. 

Sometimes,  on  entering  another  district,  our  escort  was 
compelled  to  stop  in  order  to  decide  in  what  part  to  take  up 
our  quarters.  The  people  would  then  gather  round  us,  and 
we  heard  exclamations,  and  other  expressions  of  commisera- 
tion, which  evidently  came  from  the  heart.  These  proofs  of 
popular  feeling  were  still  more  gratifying  to  me,  than  such 
as  I  had  met  with  from  my  own  countrymen.  The  conso- 
lation which  was  thus  afforded  me,  helped  to  soothe  the 


MY  TEN  YEARS'  IMPRISONMENT.  119 

bitter  indignation  I  then  felt  against  those  whom  I  esteemed 
my  enemies.  Yet,  possibly,  I  reflected,  if  we  were  brought 
more  nearly  acquainted,  if  I  could  see  into  their  real 
motives,  and  I  eould  explain  my  own  feelings,  I  might  be 
constrained  to  admit  that  they'  are  not  impelled  by  the 
malignant  spirit  I  suppose,  while  they  would  find  there  was 
as  little  of  bad  in  me.  Nay,  they  might  perhaps  be  in- 
duced not  only  to  pity,  but  to  admire  and  love  us ! 

It  is  true,  indeed,  that  men  too  often  hate  each  other, 
merely  because  they  are  strangers  to  each  other's  real  views 
and  feelings ;  and  the  simple  interchange  of  a  few  words 
would  make  them  acknowledge  their  error,  and  give  the 
hand  of  brotherhood  to  each  other. 

"We  remained  a  day  at  Lubiana ;  and  there  Canova  and 
Rezia  were  separated  from  us,  being  forthwith  conducted 
into  the  castle.  It  is  easy  to  guess  our  feelings  upon  this 
painful  occasion. 

On  the  evening  of  our  arrival  at  Lubiana  and  the  day 
following,  a  gentleman  came  and  joined  us,  who,  if  I 
remember  rightly,  announced  himself  as  the  municipal 
secretary.  His  manners  were  gentle  and  humane,  and  he 
spoke  of  religion  in  a  tone  at  once  elevated  and  impressive. 
I  conjectured  he  must  be  a  priest,  the  priests  in  Germany 
being  accustomed  to  dress  exactly  in  the  same  style  as 
laymen.  His  countenance  was  calculated  to  excite  esteem. 
I  regretted  that  I  was  not  enabled  further  to  cultivate  his 
acquaintance,  and  I  blame  myself  for  my  inadvertency  in 
not  having  taken  down  his  name. 

It  irks  me,  too,  that  I  cannot  at  this  time  recall  the 
name  of  another  gentle  being,  a  young  girl  of  Styria,  who 
followed  us  through  the  crowd,  and  when  our  coach  stopped 
for  a  few  minutes,  moved  towards  us  with  both  hands,  and 
afterwards  turned  weeping  away,  supported  by  a  young 
man,  whose  light  hair  proclaimed  him  of  German  extrac- 
tion. But  most  probably  he  had  been  in  Italy,  where  he 


120  MY  TEN  YEARS'  IMPRISONMENT. 

had  fallen  in  love  with  our  fair  countrywoman,  and  felt 
touched  for  our  country.  Yes !  what  pleasure  it  would 
have  given  me  to  record  the  names  of  those  venerable 
fathers  and  mothers  of  families,  who,  in  different  districts, 
accosted  us  on  our  road,  inquiring  if  we  had  parents  and 
friends;  and  on  hearing  that  we  had,  would  grow  pale,  and 
exclaim,  "  Alas !  may  it  please  God  to  restore  you  soon 
to  those  wretched,  hereaved  ones  whom  you  have  left 
behind."  

CHAPTER   LVII. 
ON  the  10th  of  April  we  arrived  at  our  place  of  destination. 

The  city  of  Brunn  is  the  capital  of  Moravia,  where  the 
governor  of  the  two  provinces  of  Moravia  and  Silesia  is 
accustomed  to  reside.  Situated  in  a  pleasant  valley,  it 
presents  a  rich  and  noble  aspect.  At  one  time  it  was  a 
great  manufactory  of  cloth,  but  its  prosperous  days  were  now 
passed,  and  its  population  did  not  exceed  thirty  thousand. 

Contiguous  to  the  walls  on  the  western  side  rises  a  mount, 
and  on  this  is  placed  the  dreaded  fortress  of  Spielberg,  once 
the  royal  seat  of  the  lords  of  Moravia,  and  now  the  most 
terrific  prison  under  the  Austrian  monarchy.  It  was  a 
well-guarded  citadel,  but  was  bombarded  and  taken  by  the 
French  after  the  celebrated  battle  of  Austerlitz,  a  village 
at  a  little  distance  from  it.  It  was  not  generally  repaired, 
with  the  exception  of  a  portion  of  the  outworks,  which  had 
been  wholly  demolished.  Within  it  are  imprisoned  some 
three  hundred  wretches,  for  the  most  part  robbers  and 
assassins,  some  condemned  to  the  carcere  duro,  others  to  that 
called  diirissimo,  the  severest  of  all.  This  HARD  IMPRISON- 
MENT comprehends  compulsory,  daily  labour,  to  wear 
chains  on  the  legs,  to  sleep  upon  bare  boards,  and  to  eat 
the  worst  imaginable  food.  The  (lin-issimo,  or  hardest, 
signifies  being  chained  in  a  more  horrible  manner,  one  part 
of  the  iron  being  fixed  in  the  wall,  united  to  a  hoop  round 


MY  TEN  YEARS'  IMPRISONMENT.  121 

tho  body  of  the  prisoner,  so  as  to  prevent  his  moving 
further  than  the  board  -which  serves  for  his  couch.  We,  as 
state  prisoners,  were  condemned  to  the  carcere  duro.  The 
food,  however,  is  the  same,  though  in  the  words  of  the  law 
it  is  prescribed  to  be  bread  and  water. 

While  mounting  the  acclivity  we  turned  our  eyes  as  if  to 
take  a  last  look  of  the  world  we  were  leaving,  doubting  if 
ever  the  portals  of  that  living  grave  would  be  again  un- 
closed to  us.  I  was  calm,  but  rage  and  indignation 
consumed  my  heart.  It  was  in  vain  I  had  recourse  to 
philosophy ;  it  had  no  arguments  to  quiet  or  to  support  me. 

I  was  in  poor  health  on  leaving  Venice,  and  the  journey 
had  fatigued  me  exceedingly.  I  had  a  fever,  and  felt 
severe  pains,  both  in  my  head  and  my  limbs.  Illness  in- 
creased my  irritation,  and  very  probably  the  last  had.  an 
equally  ill  effect  upon  my  frame. 

We  were  consigned  over  to  the  superintendent  of  Spiel- 
berg, and  our  names  were  registered  in  the  same  list  as 
that  of  the  robbers.  The  imperial  commissary  shook  our 
hands  upon  taking  leave,  and  was  evidently  affected. 
"Farewell,"  he  said,  "and  let  me  recommend  to  you 
calmness  and  submission :  for  I  assure  f  you  the  least  in- 
fraction of  discipline  will  be  punished  by  the  governor  in 
the  severest  manner." 

The  consignment  being  made  out,  my  friend  and  myself 
were  conducted  into  a  subterranean  gallery,  where  two 
dismal-looking  dungeons  were  unlocked,  at  a  distance  from 
each  other.  In  one  of  these  I  was  entombed  alive,  and 
poor  Maroncelli  in  the  other. 


CHAPTER  LVIII. 

How  bitter  is  it,  after  having  bid  adieu  to  so  many  beloved 
objects,  and  there  remains  only  a  single  one  between  your- 
self and  utter  solitude,  the  solitude  of  chains  and  a  living 


122  JUT   TEX   YEARS 

death,to  be  separated  even  from  that  one !  Maroncelli,  on 
leaving  me,  ill  and  dejected,  shed  tears  over  me  as  one  whom, 
it  was  most  probable,  he  would  never  more  behold.  In  him, 
too,  I  lamented  a  noble-minded  man,  cut  off  in  the  splendour  of 
his  intellect,  and  the  vigour  of  his  days,  snatched  from 
society,  all  its  duties  and  its  pleasures,  and  even  from  "  the 
common  air,  the  earth,  the  sky."  Yet  he  survived  the  un- 
heard of  afflictions  heaped  upon  him,  but  in  what  a  state  did 
he  leave  his  living  tomb  ! 

When  I  found  myself  alone  in  that  horrid  cavern,  heard 
the  closing  of  the  iron  doors,  the  rattling  of  chains,  and  by  the 
gloomy  light  of  a  high  window,  saw  the  wooden  bench  des- 
tined for  my  couch,  with  an  enormous  chain  fixed  in  the 
wall,  I  sat  down,  in  sullen  rage,  on  my  hard  resting-place, 
and.  taking  up  the  chain,  measured  its  length,  in  the  belief 
that  it  was  destined  for  me. 

In  half  an  hour  I  caught  the  sound  of  locks  and  keys ;  the 
door  opened,  and  the  head-jailer  handed  me  a  jug  of 
water. 

"  Here  is  something  to  drink,"  he  said  in  a  rough  tone, 
"  and  you  will  have  your  loaf  to-morrow." 

"  Thanks,  my  good  man." 

"  I  am  not  good,"  was  the  reply. 

"The  worse  for  you,"  I  answered,  rather  sharply.  "And 
this  great  chain,"  I  added,  "  is  it  for  me  ?  " 

"  It  is,  Sir ;  if  you  don't  happen  to  be  quiet ;  if  you  get 
into  a  rage,  or  say  impertinent  things.  But  if  you  are 
reasonable,  we  shall  only  chain  you  by  the  feet.  The  black- 
smith is  getting  all  ready." 

He  then  walked  sullenly  up  and  down,  shaking  that  hor- 
rid ring  of  enormous  keys,  while  with  angry  eye  I  measured 
his  gigantic,  lean,  and  aged  figure.  His  features,  though 
not  decidedly  vulgar,  bore  the  most  repulsive  expression  of 
brutal  severity  which  I  ever  beheld ! 

How  unjust  are  mankind  when  they  presume  to  judge  by 


MY  TEN  TEAKS'  IMPRISONMENT.  123 

appearances,  and  in  deference  to  their  vain,  arrogant  pre- 
judices. The  man  whom  I  upbraided  in  my  heart  for  shak 
ing  as  it  were  in  triumph  those  horrible  keys,  to  make  me 
more  keenly  sensible  of  his  power,  whom  I  set  down  as  an  in- 
significant tyrant,  inured  to  practices  of  cruelty,  was  then  re- 
volving thoughts  of  compassion,  and  assuredly  had  spoken  in 
that  harsh  tone  only  to  conceal  his  real  feelings.  Perhaps 
he  was  afraid  to  trust  himself,  or  that  I  should  prove 
unworthy  gentler  treatment ;  doubtful  whether  I  might  not 
be  yet  more  criminal  than  unhappy,  though  willing  to  afford 
me  relief. 

Annoyed  by  his  presence,  and  the  sort  of  lordly  air  he 
assumed,  I  determined  to  try  to  humble  him,  and  called  out 
as  if  speaking  to  a  servant,  "  Give  me  something  to  drink!  '* 
He  looked  at  me,  as  much  as  to  say,  "  Arrogant  man !  this- 
is  no  place  for  you  to  show  the  airs  of  a  master. "  Still  he 
was  silent,  bent  his  long  back,  took  up  the  jug,  and  gave  it 
to  me.  I  perceived,  as  I  took  it  from  him,  that  he  trembled,, 
and  believing  it  to  proceed  from  age,  I  felt  a  mingled  emo- 
tion of  reverence  and  compassion.  "  How  old  are  you  P  "  I 
inquired  in  a  kinder  tone. 

"  Seventy  -four,  Sir;  I  have  lived  to  see  great  calamities,, 
both  as  regards  others  and  myself." 

The  tremulous  emotion  I  had  observed  increased  as  he  said 
this,  and  again  took  the  jug  from  my  hand.  I  now  thought 
it  might  be  owing  to  some  nobler  feeling  than  the  effect  of 
age,  and  the  aversion  I  had  conceived  instantaneously  left 
me. 

"  And  what  is  your  name  ?  "  I  inquired. 

"  It  pleased  fortune,  Sir,  to  make  a  fool  of  me,  by  giving 
me  the  name  of  a  great  man.  My  name  is  Schiller."  He 
then  told  me  in  a  few  words,  some  particulars  as  to  his  native 
place,  his  family,  the  campaigns  in  which  he  had  served,  and 
the  wounds  he  had  received. 

He  was  a  Switzer,  the  son  of  peasants,  had  been  in  the 


124  MY  TEN  YEARS'  IMPRISONMENT. 

wars  against  the  Turks,  under  Marshal  Laudon,  in  the  reign 
of  Matia  Theresa  and  Joseph  II.  He  had  subsequently 
served  in  the  Austrian  campaigns  against  France,  up  to  the 
period  of  Napoleon's  exile. 


CHAPTER  LIX. 

WHEN  we  begin  to  form  a  better  opinion  of  one  against 
whom  we  had  [conceived  a  strong  prejudice,  we  seem  to  dis- 
cover in  every  feature,  in  his  voice,  and  manner,  fresh  marks 
of  a  good  disposition,  to  which  we  were  before  strangers.  Is 
this  real,  or  is  it  not  rather  founded  upon  illusion  ?  Shortly 
before,  we  interpreted  the  very  same  expressions  in  another 
way.  Our  judgment  of  moral  qualities  has  undergone  a 
change,  and  soon,  the  conclusions  drawn  from  our  know- 
ledge of  physiognomy  are  equally  different.  How  many 
portraits  of  celebrated  men  inspire  us  only  with  respect  or 
admiration  because  we  know  their  characters ;  portraits 
which  we  should  have  pronounced  worthless  and  unattractive 
had  they  represented  the  ordinary  race  of  mortals.  And  thus 
it  is,  if  we  reason  vice  versd.  I  once  laughed,  I  remember, 
at  a  lady,  who  on  beholding  a  likeness  of  Catiline  mistook  it 
for  that  of  Collatinus,  and  remarked  upon  the  sublime  ex- 
pression of  grief  in  the  features  of  Collatinus  for  the  loss  of 
his  Lucretia.  These  sort  of  illusions  are  not  uncommon.  I 
would  not  maintain  that  the  features  of  good  men  do  not 
bear  the  impression  of  their  character,  like  irreclaimable 
villains  that  of  their  depravity ;  but  that  there  are  many 
which  have  at  least  a  doubtful  cast.  In  short,  I  won  a  little 
upon  old  Schiller ;  I  looked  at  him  more  attentively,  and  he 
no  longer  appeared  forbidding.  To  say  the  truth,  there  was 
something  in  his  language  which,  spite  of  its  rough  tone, 
showed  the  genuine  traits  of  a  noble  mind.  And  spite  of 
our  first  looks  of  mutual  distrust  and  defiance,  we  seemed  to 
feel  a  certain  respect  for  each  other ;  he  spoke  boldly  what 
he  thought,  and  so  did  I. 


MY  TEN    TEABS'   IMPKISONMENT.  125 

"  Captain  as  I  am,"  he  observed,  "  I  have  fallen, — to  take 
my  rest,  into  this  wretched  post  of  jailer  ;  and  God  knows 
it  is  far  more  disagreeable  for  me  to  maintain  it,  than  it 
was  to  risk  my  life  in  hattlc." 

I  was  now  sorry  I  had  asked  him  so  haughtily  to  give  me 
drink.  "My  dear  Schiller,"  I  said,  grasping  his  hand, 
"  it  is  in  vain  you  deny  it,  I  know  you  are  a  good 
fellow ;  and  as  I  have  fallen  into  thfe  calamity,  I  thank 
heaven  which  has  given  me  you  for  a  guardian  !  " 

He  listened  to  me,  shook  his  head,  and  then  rubbing  his 
forehead,  like  a  man  in  some  perplexity  or  trouble. 

"  No,  Sir,  I  am  bad — rank  bad.  They  made  me  take  an 
oath,  which  I  must,  and  will  keep.  I  am  bound  to  treat  all 
the  prisoners,  without  distinction,  with  equal  severity;  no 
indulgence,  no  permission. to  relent,  to  soften  the  sternest 
orders,  in  particular  as  regards  prisoners  of  state." 

"  You  are  a  noble  fellow ;  I  respect  you  for  making  your 
duty  a  point  of  conscience.  You  may  err,  humanly  speak- 
ing, but  your  motives  are  pure  in  the  eyes  of  God." 

"  Poor  gentleman,  have  patience,.and  pity  me.  I  shall 
be  hard  as  steel  in  my  duty,  but  my  heart  bleeds  to  be 
unable  to  relieve  the  unfortunate.  This  is  all  I  really 
wished  to  sa.y."  We  were  both  affected. 

He  then  entreated  that  I  would  preserve  my  calmness, 
and  not  give  way  to  passion,  as  is  too  frequent  with 
solitary  prisoners,  and  calls  for  restraint,  and  even  for 
severer  punishment. 

He  afterwards  resumed  his  gruff,  affected  tone  as  if  to 
conceal  the  compassion  he  felt  for  me,  observing  that  it  was 
high  time  for  him  to  go. 

He  came  back,  however,  and  inquired  how  long  a  time  I 
had  been  afflicted  with  that  horrible  cough,  reflecting 
sharply  upon  the  physician  for  not  coming  to  see  me  that 
very  evening.  "You  are  ill  of  a  horse  fever,"  he  added, 
"I  know  it  well;  you  will  stand  in  need  of  a  stiaw 


126  MY  TEN  YEARS'  IMPRISONMENT. 

bed,  but  'we  cannot  give  you  one  till  the  doctor  has  or- 
dered it.1' 

He  retired,  locked  the  door,  and  I  threw  myself  upon  the 
hard  boards,  with  considerable  fever  and  pain  in  my  chest, 
but  less  irritable,  less  at  enmity  with  mankind,  and  less 
alienated  from  God. 


CHAPTER  LX. 

IN  the  evening  came  the  superintendent,  attended  by 
Schiller,  another  captain,  and  two  soldiers,  to  make  the 
usual  search.  Three  of  these  inquisitions  were  ordered  each 
day,  at  morning,  noon,  and  midnight.  Every  corner  of  the 
prison  was  examined,  and  each  article  of  the  most  trivial 
kind.  The  inferior  officers  then  left,  and  the  superinten- 
dent remained  a  little  time  to  converse  with  me. 

The  first  time  I  saw  this  troop  of  jailers  approach,  a 
strange  thought  came  into  my  head.  Being  unacquainted 
with  their  habits  of  search,  and  half  delirious  with  fever,  it 
struck  me  that  they  were  come  to  take  my  life,  and  seizing 
my  great  chain  I  resolved  to  sell  it  dearly  by  knocking  the 
first  upon  the  head  that  offered  to  molest  me.  • 

"What  mean  you?"  exclaimed  the  superintendent; 
"  we  are  not  going  to  hurt  you.  It  is  merely  a  formal  visit 
to  ascertain  that  all  is  in  proper  order  in  the  prisons." 

I  hesitated,  but  when  I  saw  Schiller  advance  and 
stretch  forth  his  hand  with  a  kind,  paternal  look,  I  dropped 
the  chain  and  took  his  proffered  hand.  "  Lord !  how  it 
burns,"  he  said,  turning  towards  the  superintendent ;  "  he 
ought  at  least  to  have  a  straw  bed ; "  and  he  said  this  in  so 
truly  compassionate  a  tone  as  quite  to  win  my  heart.  The 
superintendent  then  felt  my  pulse,  and  spoke  some  consola- 
tory words :  he  was  a  man  of  gentlemanly  manners,  but 
dared  not  for  his  life  express  any  opinion  upon  the  subject, 

"  It  is  all  a  reign  of  terror  here,"   said  he,   "  even  as 


MY  TEN  YEARS'  IMPRISONMENT.  127 

regards  myself.  Should  I  not  execute  my  orders  to  the 
rigour  of  the  letter,  you  would  no  longer  see  me  here." 
Schiller  made  a  long  face,  and  I  could  have  wagered  he 
said  within  himself,  "  But  if  I  were  at  the  head,  like  you,  I 
would  not  carry  my  apprehensions  so  very  far  ;  for  to  give 
an  opinion  on  a  matter  of  such  evident  necessity,  and  so  in- 
nocuous to  government,  would  never  be  esteemed  a  mighty 
fault." 

When  left  alone,  I  felt  my  heart,  so  long  incapahle  of 
any  deep  sense  of  religion,  stirred  within  me,  and  knelt 
down  to  pray.  I  besought  a  blessing  upon  the  head  of  old 
Schiller,  and  appealing  to  God,  asked  that  he  would  so 
move  the  hearts  of  those  around  me,  as  to  permit  me  to 
become  attached  to  them,  and  no  longer  suffer  me  to  hate 
my  fellow-beings,  humbly  accepting  all  that  was  to  be 
inflicted  upon  me  from  His  hand. 

About  midnight  I  heard  people  passing  along  the 
gallery.  Keys  were  sounding,  and  soon  the  door  opened ; 
it  was  the  captain  and  his  guards  on  search. 

"  Where  is  my  old  Schiller  ?  "  inquired  I.  He  had 
stopped  outside  in  the  gallery. 

"  I  am  here — 1  am  here  !  "  was  the  answer.  He  came 
towards  the  table,  and,  feeling  my  pulse,  hung  over  me  as  a 
father  would  over  "his  child  with  anxious  and  inquiring 
look.  "Now  I  remember,"  said  he,  "to-morrow  is 
Thursday." 

"-And  what  of  that  ?  "  I  inquired. 

"Why  !  it  is  just  one  of  the  days  when  the  doctor  does 
not  attend,  he  comes  only  on  a  Monday,  Wednesday,  and 
Friday.  Plague  on  him." 

"  Give  yourself  no  uneasiness  about  that ! '' 

"No  uneasiness,  no  uneasiness!"  he  muttered,  "but  I 
do ;  you  are  ill,  I  see  ;  nothing  is  talked  of  in  the  whole 
town  but  the  arrival  of  yourself  and  friends ;  the  doctor 
must  have  heard  of  it ;  and  why  the  devil  could  he  not 


128  MY  TEN  YEARS'  IMPRISONMENT. 

make  the  extraordinary  exertion  of  coming  once  out  of  his 
time  ?  " 

"Who  knows!"  said  I,  "he  may  perhaps  he  here  to- 
morrow,— Thursday  though  it  will  be  ?  " 

The  old  man  said  no  more,  ho  gave  me  a  squeeze  of  the 
hand,  enough  to  break  every  hone  in  my  fingers,  as  a  mark 
of  his  approbation  of  my  courage  and  resignation.  I  was  a 
little  angry  with  him,  however,  much  as  a  young  lover,  if 
the  girl  of  his  heart  happen  in  dancing  to  press  her  foot 
upon  his;  he  laughs  and  esteems  himself  highly  favoured, 
instead  of  crying  out  with  the  pain. 


CHAPTER  LXI. 

I  AWOKE  on  Thursday  morning,  after  a  horrible  night, 
weak,  aching  in  all  my  bones,  from  the  hard  boards,  and  in 
a  profuse  perspiration.  The  visit  hour  came,  but  the  super- 
intendent was  absent ;  and  he  only  followed  at  a  more  con- 
venient time.  I  said  to  Schiller,  "  Just  see  how  terribly  I 
perspire ;  but  it  is  now  growing  cold  upon  me  ;  what  a  treat 
it  would  be  to  change  my  shirt." 

"  You  cannot  do  it,"  he  said,  in  a  brutal  tone.  At  the 
same  time  he  winked,  and  moved  his  hand.  The  captain 
and  guards  withdrew,  and  Schiller  made  me  another  sign  as 
he  closed  the  door.  He  soon  opened  it  again,  and  brought 
one  of  his  own  shirts,  long  enough  to  cover  me  from  head 
to  feet,  even  if  doubled. 

"  It  is  perhaps  a  little  too  long,  but  I  have  no  others 
here." 

"  I  thank  you,  friend,  but  as  I  brought  with  me  a  whole 
trunk  full  of  linen,  I  do  hope  I  may  be  permitted  the  use  of 
it.  Have  the  kindness  to  ask  the  superintendent  to  let  me 
have  one  of  my  shirts." 

"  You  will   not  be   permitted,  Sir,  to  use  any  of  your 


MY   TEN   YEABS'   IMPRISONMENT.  129 

linen  here.  Each  week  you  will  have  a  shirt  given  you 
from  the  house  like  the  other  prisoners." 

"  You  see,  good  man,  in  what  a  condition  I  am.  I  shall 
never  go  out  of  here  alive.  I  shall  never  be  able  to 
reward  you." 

"For  shame,  Sir!  for  shame!"  said  the  old  man. 
"  Talk  of  reward  to  one  who  can  do  you  no  good  !  to  one 
who  dare  hardly  give  a  dry  shirt  to  a  sick  fellow  creature 
in  a  sweat !  "  He  then  helped  me  on  with  his  long  shirt, 
grumbling  all  the  while,  and  slammed  the  door  to  with 
violence  on  going  out,  as  if  he  had  been  in  a  great  rage. 

About  two  hours  after,  he  brought  me  a  piece  of  black 
bread.  "  This,"  he  said,  "  is  your  two  days'  fare  ! "  he 
then  began  to  walk  about  in  a  sulky  mood. 

"  "What  is  the  matter  ?  "  I  inquired  ;  "  are  you  vexed  at 
me?  Ysu  know  I  took  the  shirt." 

"  I  am  enraged  at  that  doctor ;  though  it  be  Thursday 
he  might  show  his  ugly  face  here." 

"  Patience  !  "  said  I ;  but  though  I  said  it,  I  knew  not 
for  the  life  of  me  how  to  get  the  least  rest,  without  a 
pillow,  upon  those  hard  boards.  Every  bone  in  my  body 
suffered.  At  eleven  I  was  treated  to  the  prison  dinner — 
two  little  iron  pots,  one  of  soup,  the  other  of  herbs,  mixed 
in  such  a  way  as  to  turn  your  stomach  with  the  smell.  I 
tried  to  swallow  a  few  spoonfuls,  but  did  not  succeed. 
Schiller  encouraged  me  :  "Never  despair,"  said  he;  "try 
again ;  you  will  get  used  to  it  in  time.  If  you  don't,  you 
will  be  like  many  others  before  you,  unable  to  eat  anything 
but  bread,  and  die  of  mere  inanition." 

Friday  morning  came,  and  with  it  came  Dr.  Bayer  at  last. 
He  found  me  very  feverish,  ordered  me  a  straw  bed,  and 
insisted  I  should  be  removed  from  the  caverns  into  one  of 
the  abodes  above.  It  could  not  be  done ;  there  was  no 
room.  An  appeal  was  made  to  the  Governor  of  Moravia 
and  Silesia,  residing  at  Brunn,  who  commanded,  on  the 
E 


130  MY  TEN  YEARS'  IMPRISONMENT. 

urgency  of  the  case,  that  the  medical  advice  should  be 
followed. 

There  was  a  little  light  in  the  room  to  which  I  was  re- 
moved. I  crawled  towards  the  bars  of  the  narrow  window, 
and  had  the  delight  of  seeing  the  valley  that  lay  below, — 
part  of  the  city  of  Briinn, — a  suburb  with  gardens, — the 
churchyard, — the  little  lake  of  Certosa, — and  the  woody 
hills  which  lay  between  us  and  the  famous  plains  of 
Austerlitz.  I  was  enchanted,  and  oh,  what  double  pleasure, 
thought  I,  would  be  mine,  were  I  enabled  to  share  it  with 
my  poor  friend  Maroncelli ! 


CHAPTER  LXH. 

MEANWHILE,  our  prison  dresses  were  making  for  us,  and 
five  days  afterwards  mine  was  brought  to  me.  It  consisted 
of  a  pair  of  pantaloons  made  of  rough  cloth,  of  which  the 
right  side  was  grey,  the  left  of  a  dark  colour.  The  waist- 
coat was  likewise  of  two  colours  equally  divided,  as  well  aa 
the  jacket,  but  with  the  same  colours  placed  on  the  contrary 
sides.  The  stockings  were  of  the  coarsest  wool ;  the  shirt  of 
linen  tow  full  of  sharp  points — a  true  hair-cloth  garment ; 
and  round  the  neck  was  a  piece  of  the  same  kind.  Our 
legs  were  enveloped  in  leather  buskins,  un tanned,  and  we 
wore  a  coarse  white  hat. 

This  costume  was  not  complete  without  the  addition  of 
chains  to  the  feet,  that  is,  extending  from  one  leg  to  the 
other,  the  joints  being  fastened  with  nails,  which  were 
riveted  upon  an  anvil.  The  blacksmith  employed  upon  my 
legs,  in  this  operation,  observed  to  one  of  the  guards,  think- 
ing I  knew  nothing  of  German,  "  So  ill  as  he  is,  one  would 
think  they  might  spare  him  this  sort  of  fun ;  ere  two  months 
be  over,  the  angel  of  death  will  loosen  these  rivets  of 
mine." 

"  Mochte  e»  seyn  I  may  it  be  so ! "  was  my  reply,  as  I 


MY  TEN  TEARS'  IMPRISONMENT.  131 

touched  him  upon  the  shoulder.  The  poor  fellow  started, 
and  seemed  quite  confused ;  he  then  said ;  "  I  hope  I  may 
be  a  false  prophet ;  and  I  wish  you  may  he  set  free  by 
another  kind  of  angel." 

"  Yet,  rather  than  live  thus,  think  you  not,  it  would  be 
welcome  even  from  the  angel  of  death  ?  "  He  nodded  his 
head,  and  went  away,  with  a  look  of  deep  compassion  for 
me. 

I  would  truly  have  been  willing  to  die,  but  I  felt  no  dis- 
position towards  suicide.  I  felt  confident  that  the  disease 
of  my  lungs  would  be  enough,  ere  long,  to  give  mo  freedom. 
Such  was  not  the  will  of  God.  The  fatigue  of  my  journey 
had  made  me  much  worse,  but  rest  seemed  again  to  restore 
my  powers. 

A  few  minutes  after  the  blacksmith  left  me,  I  heard  the 
hammer  sounding  upon  the  anvil  in  one  of  the  caverns 
below.  Schiller  was  then  in  my  room.  "  Do  you  hear  those 
blows  ?  "  I  said ;  "  they  are  certainly  fixing  the  irons  on  poor 
Maroncelli."  The  idea  for  the  moment  was  so  overwhelm- 
ing, that  if  the  old  man  had  not  caught  me,  I  should  have 
fallen.  For  more  than  half  an  hour,  I  continued  in  a  kind 
of  swoon,  and  yet  I  was  sensible.  I  could  not  speak,  my 
pulse  scarcely  beat  at  all ;  a  cold  sweat  bathed  me  from  head 
to  foot.  Still  I  could  hear  all  that  Schiller  said,  and  had  a 
keen  perception,  both  of  what  had  passed  and  was  passing. 

By  command  of  the  superintendent  and  the  activity  of  the 
guards,  the  whole  of  the  adjacent  prisons  had  been  kept  in  a 
state  of  profound  silence.  Three  or  four  times  I  had  caught 
snatches  of  some  Italian  song,  but  they  were  quickly  stitied 
by  the  calls  of  the  sentinels  on  duty.  Several  of  these  were 
stationed  upon  the  ground-floor,  under  our  windows,  and 
one  in  the  gallery  close  by,  who  was  continually  engaged 
in  listening  at  the  doors  and  looking  through  the  bars  to 
forbid  every  kind  of  noise. 

Once,  towards  evening  (I  feel  the  same  sort  of  emotion 


132  MY  TEN  TEAKS'  IMPBISONMENT. 

whenever  I  recur  to  it) ,  it  happened  that  the  sentinels  were 
less  on  the  alert ;  and  I  heard  in  a  low  but  clear  voice  some 
one  singing  in  a  prison  adjoining  my  own.  What  joy,  what 
agitation  I  felt  at  the  sound.  I  rose  from  my  bed  of  straw, 
I  bent  my  ear;  and  when  it  ceased — I  burst  into  tears. 
"  Who  art  thou,  unhappy  one  ?  "  I  cried,  "  who  art  thou  P 
tell  me  thy  name !  I  am  Silvio  Pellico." 

"  Oh,  Silvio !  "  cried  my  neighbour,  "  I  know  you  not  by 
person,  but  I  have  long  loved  you.  Get  up  to  your  window, 
and  let  us  speak  to  each  other,  in  spite  of  the  jailers." 

I  crawled  up  as  well  as  I  could ;  he  told  me  his  name,  and 
we  exchanged  few  words  of  kindness.  It  was  the  Count 
Antonio  Oroboni,  a  native  of  Fratta,  near  Rovigo,  and  only 
twenty-nine  years  of  age.  A  I"--*  -  we  wore  sooiiintorrupUidby 
the  ferocious  cries  of  the  sentinels.  He  in  the  gallery 
knocked  as  loud  as  he  could  with  the  butt-end  of  his  musket, 
both  at  the  Count's  door  and  at  mine.  We  would  not,  and 
we  could  not  obey ;  but  the  noise,  the  oaths,  and  threats  of 
the  guards  were  such  as  to  drown  our  voices,  and  after 
arranging  that  we  would  resume  our  communications,  upon 
a  change  of  guards,  we  ceased  to  converse. 


CHAPTER  LXm. 

WE  were  in  hopes  (and  so  in  fact  it  happened)  that  by  speak- 
ing in  a  lower  tone,  and  perhaps  occasionally  having  guards 
whose  humanity  might  prompt  them  to  pay  no  attention  to 
us,  we  might  renew  our  conversation.  By  dint  of  practice 
we  learnt  to  hear  each  other  in  so  low  a  key  that  the  sounds 
were  almost  sure  to  escape  the  notice  of  the  sentinels.  If, 
as  it  rarely  happened,  we  forgot  ourselves,  and  talked  aloud, 
there  came  down  upon  us  a  torrent  of  cries,  and  knocks  at 
our  doors,  accompanied  with  threats  and  curses  of  «Tery 
kind,  to  say  nothing  of  poor  Schiller's  vexation,  and  that  ol 
the  superintendent. 


MY  TEN  YEARS'  IMPRISONMENT.  133 

By  degrees,  however,  -we  brought  our  system  to  perfection ; 
spoke  only  at  the  precise  minutes,  quarters,  and  half  hours 
when  it  was  safe,  or  when  such  and  such  guards  were  upon 
duty.  At  length,  with  moderate  caution,  we  were  enabled 
every  day  to  converse  almost  as  much  as  we  pleased,  without 
drawing  on  us  the  attention  or  anger  of  any  of  the  superior 
officers. 

It  was  thus  we  contracted  an  intimate  friendship.  The 
Count  told  me  his  adventures,  and  in  turn  I  related  mine. 
We  sympathised  in  everything  we  heard,  and  in  all  each 
other's  joys  or  griefs.  It  was  of  infinite  advantage  to  us,  aa 
well  as  pleasure ;  for  often,  after  passing  a  sleepless  night, 
one  or  the  other  would  hasten  to  the  window  and  salute  his 
friend.  How  these  mutual  welcomes  and  conversations 
helped  to  encourage  us,  and  to  soothe  the  horrors  of  our 
continued  solitude  !  We  felt  that  we  were  useful  to  each 
other ;  and  the  sense  of  this  roused  a  gentle  emulation  in  all 
our  thoughts,  and  gave  a  satisfaction  which  man  receives, 
even  in  misery,  when  he  knows  he  can  serve  a  fellow- 
creature.  Each  conversation  gave  rise  to  new  ones ;  it  was 
necessary  to  continue  them,  and  to  explain  as  we  went  on. 
It  was  an  unceasing  stimulus  to  our  ideas,  to  our  reason,  our 
memory,  bur  imagination,  and  our  hearts.  . 

At  first,  indeed,  calling  to  mind  Julian,  I  was  doubtful  as 
to  the  fidelity  of  this  new  friend.  I  reflected  that  hitherto 
we  had  not  been  at  variance ;  but  some  day  I  feared  some- 
thing unpleasant  might  occur,  and  that  I  should  then  be 
sent  back  to  my  solitude.  But  this  suspicion  was  soon  re- 
moved. Our  opinions  harmonised  upon  all  essential  points: 
To  a  noble  mind,  full  of  ardour  and  generous  sentiment^ 
undaunted  by  misfortune,  he  added  the  most  clear  and 
perfect  faith  in  Christianity,  while  in  me  this  had  become 
vacillating  and  at  times  apparently  extinct. 

He  met  my  doubts  with  most  just  and  admirable  re- 
flections ;  and  with  equal  affection,  I  felt  that  he  had  reason 


134  MY   TEN   YEARS'    IMPRISONMENT. 

on  his  side :  I  admitted  it,  yet  still  my  doubts  returned.  It 
is  thus,  I  believe,  with  all  who  have  not  the  Gospel  at  heart, 
and  who  hato,  or  indulge  resentments  of  any  kind.  The 
mind  catches  glimpses,  as  it  were,  of  the  truth,  but  as  it  is 
unpleasing,  it  is  disbelieved  the  moment  after,  and  the 
attention  directed  elsewhere. 

Oroboni  was  indefatigable  in  turning  my  attention  to  the 
motives  which  man  has  to  show  kindness  to  his  enemies.  I 
never  spoke  of  any  one  I  abhorred  but  he  began  in  a  most 
dexterous  manner  to  defend  him,  and  not  less  by  his  words 
than  by  his  example.  Many  men  had  injured  him;  it 
grieved  him,  yet  he  forgave  all,  and  had  the  magnanimity  to 
relate  some  laudable  trait  or  other  belonging  to  each,  and 
seemed  to  do  it  with  pleasure. 

The  irritation  which  had  obtained  such  a  mastery  over  me, 
and  rendered  me  so  irreligious  after  my  condemnation,  con- 
tinued several  weeks,  and  then  wholly  ceased.  The  noble 
virtue  of  Oroboni  delighted  me.  Struggling  as  well  as  I 
could  to  reach  him,  I  at  least  trod  in  the  same  track,  and  I 
was  then  enabled  to  pray  with  sincerity  ;  to  forgive,  to  hate 
no  one,  and  dissipate  every  remaining  doubt  and  gloom. 

Ubi  charitas  et  amor,  Deus  ibi  est.* 


CHAPTER  LXIV. 

To  say  truth,  if  our  punishment  was  excessively  severe,  and 
calculated  to  irritate  the  mind,  we  had  still  the  rare  fortune 
of  meeting  only  with  individuals  of  real  worth.  They 
could  not,  indeed,  alleviate  our  situation,  except  by  kind- 
.  ness  and  respect,  but  so  much  was  freely  granted.  If  there 
were  something  rude  and  uncouth  in  old  Schiller,  it  was 
amply  compensated  by  his  noble  spirit.  Even  the  wretched 
Kunda  (the  convict  who  brought  us  our  dinner,  and  water 
three  times  a-day)  was  anxious  to  show  his  compassion  for 
'  Where  charity  and  love  are,  God  is  present. 


MY  TEN  YEARS'  IMPRISONMENT.  135 

as.  He  swept  our  rooms  regularly  twice  in  the  week.  One 
morning,  while  thus  engaged,  as  Schiller  turned  a  few  steps 
from  the  door,  poor  Kunda  offered  me  a  piece  of  white 
bread.  I  refused  it,  but  squeezed  him  cordially  by  the 
hand.  He  was  moved,  and  told  me,  in  bad  German,  that  he 
was  a  Pole.  "  Good  sir,"  he  added,  "  they  give  us  so  little 
to  eat  here,  that  I  am  sure  you  must  he  hungry."  I  as- 
sured him  I  was  not,  but  he  was  very  hard  of  belief. 

The  physician,  perceiving  that  we  were  none  of  us  en- 
abled to  swallow  the  kind  of  food  prepared  for  us  on  our 
first  arrival,  put  us  all  upon  what  is  considered  the  hospital 
diet.  This  consisted  of  three  very  small  plates  of  soup  in 
the  day,  the  least  slice  of  roast  lamb,  hardly  a  mouthful, 
and  about  three  ounces  of  white  bread. 

As  my  health  continued  to  improve,  my  appetite  grew 
better,  and  that  "  fourth  portion,"  as  they  termed  it,  was 
really  too  little,  and  I  began  to  feel  the  justice  of  poor 
Kunda's  remarks.  I  tried  a  return  to  the  sound  diet,  but 
do  what  I  would  to  conquer  my  aversion,  it  was  all  labour 
lost.  I  was  compelled  to  live  upon  the  fourth  part  of 
ordinary  meals  :  and  for  a  whole  year  I  knew  by  experience 
the  tortures  of  hunger.  It  was  still  more  severely  felt  by 
many  of  my  fellow-prisoners,  who,  being  far  stouter,  had 
been  accustomed  to  a  full  and  generous  diet.  I  learnt  that 
many  of  them  were  glad  to  accept  pieces  of  bread  from 
Schiller  and  some  of  the  guards,  and  even  from  the  poor 
hungry  Kunda. 

"  It  is  reported  in  the  city,"  said  the  barber,  a  young- 
practitioner  of  our  surgery,  one  day  to  me,  "  it  is  reported 
that  they  do  not  give  you  gentlemen  here  enough  to  eat." 

"  And  it  is  very  true,"  replied  I,  with  perfect  sincerity. 

The  next  Sunday  (he  came  always  on  that  day)  he- 
brought  me  an  immense  white  loaf,  and  Schiller  pretended 
not  to  see  him  give  it  me.  Had  I  listened  to  my  stomach  I 
should  have  accepted  it,  but  I  would  not,  Jlest  he  should 


136  MY  TEN  YEARS'  IMPRISONMENT. 

repeat  the  gift  and  bring  himself  into  some  trouble.  For  the 
«ame  reason  I  refused  Schiller's  offers.  He  would  often 
tring  me  boiled  meat,  entreating  me  to  partake  of  it,  and 
protesting  it  cost  him  nothing ;  besides,  he  knew  not  what 
to  do  with  it,  and  must  give  it  away  to  somebody.  I  could 
liave  devoured  it,  but  would  he  not  then  be  tempted  to  offer 
me  something  LT  other  every  day,  and  what  would  it  end 
in  ?  Twice  only  I  partook  of  some  cherries  and  some 
pears ;  they  were  quite  irresistible.  I  was  punished  as  I 
expected,  for  from  that  time  forth  the  old  man  never  ceased 
bringing  me  fruit  of  some  kind  or  other. 


CHAPTER   LXV. 

IT  was  arranged,  on  our  arrival,  that  each  of  us  should  be 
permitted  to  walk  an  hour  twice  in  the  week.  In  the 
sequel,  this  relief  was  one  day  granted  us  and  another  re- 
fused ;  and  the  hour  was  always  later  during  festivals. 

We  went,  each  separately,  between  two  guards,  with 
loaded  muskets  on  their  shoulders.  In  passing  from  my 
prison,  at  the  head  of  the  gallery,  I  went  by  the  whole  of 
the  Italian  prisoners,  with  the  exception  of  Maroncelli — the 
only  one  condemned  to  linger  in  the  caverns  below.  "A 
pleasant  walk  ! "  whispered  they  all,  as  they  saw  me  pass  ; 
but  I  was  not  allowed  to  exchange  a  single  word. 

I  was  led  down  a  staircase  which  opened  into  a  spacious 
court,  where  we  walked  upon  a  terrace,  with  a  south  aspect, 
and  a  view  of  the  city  of  Briinn  and  the  surrounding 
country.  In  this  courtyard  we  saw  numbers  of  the 
common  criminals,  coming  from,  or  going  to,  their  labour, 
or  passing  along  conversing  in  groups.  Among  them  were 
several  Italian  robbers,  who  saluted  me  with  great  respect. 
"  He  is  no  rogue,  like  us;  yet  you  see  his  punishment  is 
more  severe  "  ;  and  it  was  true,  they  had  a  larger  share  of 
freedom  than  I. 


MT  TEN  TEARS'  IMPRISONMENT.  137 

Upon  hearing  expressions  like  these,  I  turned  and 
saluted  them  with  a  good-natured  look.  One  of  them  ob- 
served, "  It  does  me  good  to  see  you,  sir,  when  you  notice 
me.  Possibly  you  may  see  something  in  my  look  not  so 
very  wicked.  An  unhappy  passion  instigated  me  to  commit 
a  crime,  hut  helieve  me,  sir,  I  am  no  villain !  " 

Saying  this  he  hurst  into  tears.  I  gave  him  my  hand, 
but  he  was  unable  to  return  the  pressure.  At  that  moment, 
my  guard,  according  to  their  instructions,  drove  him  away, 
declaring  that  they  must  permit  no  one  to  approach  me. 
The  observations  subsequently  addressed  to  me  were  pre- 
tended to  be  spoken  among  each  other ;  and  if  my  two 
attendants  became  aware  of  it,  they  quickly  interposed 
silence. 

Prisoners  of  various  ranks,  and  visitors  of  the  superin- 
tendent, the  chaplain,  the  sergeant,  or  some  of  the  captains, 
were  likewise  to  be  seen  there.  "  That  is  an  Italian,  that 
is  an  Italian ! "  they  often  whispered  each  other.  They 
stopped  to  look  at  me,  and  they  would  say  in  German, 
supposing  I  should  not  understand  them,  "That  poor 
gentleman  will  not  live  to  be  old;  he  has  death  in  his 
countenance." 

In  fact,  after  recovering  some  degree  of  strength,  I  again 
fell  ill  for  want  of  nourishment,  and  fever  again  attacked 
me.  I  attempted  to  drag  myself,  as  far  as  my  chain  would 
permit,  along  the  walk,  and  throwing  myself  upon  the  turf, 
I  rested  there  until  the  expiration  of  my  hour.  The  guards 
would  then  sit  down  near  me,  and  begin  to  converse  with 
each  other.  One  of  them,  a  Bohemian,  named  Krai,  had, 
though  very  poor,  received  some  sort  of  an  education, 
which  he  had  himself  improved  by  reflection.  He  was  fond 
of  reading,  had  studied  Klopstock,  Wieland,  Goethe, 
Schiller,  and  many  other  distinguished  German  writers. 
He  knew  a  good  deal  by  memory,  and  repeated  many 
passages  with  feeling  and  correctness.  The  other  guard 


138  MY   TEN   YFAB5'    IMPRISONMENT. 

was  a    Pole,  by  name   Kubitzky,   wholly  untaught,   but 
kind  and  respectful.     Their  society  was  a  great  relief  to 


CHAPTER   LXVI. 

AT  one  end  of  the  terrace  was  situated  the  apartments  of 
the  superintendent,  at  the  other  was  the  residence  of  a 
captain,  with  his  wife  and  son.  When  I  saw  any  one  ap- 
pear from  these  buildings,  I  was  in  the  habit  of  approaching 
near,  and  was  invariably  received  with  marks  of  courtesy 
and  compassion. 

The  wife  of  the  captain  had  been  long  ill,  and  appeared 
to  be  in  a  decline.  She  was  sometimes  carried  into  the 
•open  air,  and  it  was  astonishing  to  see  the  sympathy  she 
-expressed  for  our  sufferings.  She  had  the  sweetest  look  I 
•ever  saw ;  and  though  evidently  timid,  would  at  times  fix 
lier  eye  upon  me  with  an  inquiring,  confiding  glance,  when 
appealed  to  by  name.  One  day  I  observed  to  her  with  a 
smile,  "  Do  you  know,  signora,  I  find  a  resemblance  be- 
tween you  and  one  who  was  very  dear  to  me."  She  blushed, 
and  replied  with  charming  simplicity,  "  Do  not  then  forget 
me  when  I  shall  be  no  more ;  pray  for  my  unhappy  soul, 
and  for"  the  little  ones  I  leave  behind  me  !  "  I  never  saw 
her  after  that  day ;  she  was  unable  to  rise  from  her  bed,  and 
in  a  few  months  I  heard  of  her  death. 

She  left  three  sons,  all  beautiful  as  cherubs,  and  one  still 
an  infant  at  the  breast.  I  had  often  seen  the  poor  mother 
embrace  them  when  I  was  by,  and  say,  with  tears  in  her 
eyes,  "Who  will  bo  their  mother  when  I  am  gone?  Ah, 
whoever  she  may  be,  may  it  please  the  Father  of  all  to  in- 
spire her  with  love,  even  for  children  not  her  own." 

Often,  when  she  was  no  more,  did  I  embrace  those 
fair  children,  shed  a  tear  over  them,  and  invoke  their 
mother's  blessing  on  them,  in  the  same  words.  Thoughts 
of  my  own  mother,  and  of  the  prayers  she  so  often  offered 


MY  TEN  YEARS'  IMPRISONMENT.  139 

up  for  her  lost  son,  would  then,  come  over  me,  and  I  added, 
•with,  broken  words  and  sighs,  "  Oh,  happier  mother  than 
mine,  you  left,  indeed,  these  innocent  ones,  so  young  and 
fair,  but  my  dear  mother  devoted  long  years  of  care  and 
tenderness  to  me,  and  saw  them  all,  with  the  object  of  them, 
snatched  from  her  at  a  blow  !  " 

These  children  were  intrusted  to  the  care  of  two  elderly 
and  excellent  women ;  one  of  them  the  mother,  the  other 
the  aunt  of  the  superintendent.  They  wished  to  hear  the 
whole  of  my  history,  and  I  gave  it  them  as  briefly  as  I 
could.  "  How  greatly  we  regret,"  they  observed,  with 
warm  sympathy,  "  to  be  unable  to  help  you  in  any  way. 
Be  assured,  however,  we  offer  up  constant  prayers  for  you, 
and  if  ever  the  day  come  that  brings  you  liberty,  it  will 
be  celebrated  by  all  our  family,  like  one  of  the  happiest 
festivals." 

The  first-mentioned  of  these  ladies  had  a  remarkably 
sweet  and  soothing  voice,  united  to  an  eloquence  rarely  to 
be  heard  from  the  lips  of  woman.  I  listened  to  her  reli- 
gious exhortations  with  a  feeling  of  filial  gratitude,  and 
they  sunk  deep  into  my  heart.  Though  her  observations 
were  not  new  to  me,  they  were  always  applicable,  and  most 
valuable  to  me,  as  will  appear  from  what  follows : 

"  Misfortune  cannot  degrade  a  man,  unless  he  be  intrin- 
sically mean ;  it  rather  elevates  him. "  If  we  could 

penetrate  the  judgments  of  God,  we  should  find  that 
frequently  the  objects  most  to  be  pitied  were  the  conquerors, 
not  the  conquered ;  the  joyous  rather  than  the  sorrowful ; 

the  wealthy  rather  than  those  who  are  despoiled  of  all." 

"  The  particular  kindness  shown  by  the  Saviour  of  mankind 

to  the  unfortunate  is  a  striking  fact." "  That  man  ought 

to  feel  honoured  in  bearing  the  cross,  when  he  considers 
that  it  was  borne  up  the  mount  of  our  redemption  by  the 
Divinity  himself  in  human  form." 

Such  were  among  the  excellent  sentiments  she  inculcated ; 


140  MY  TEN  TEARS'  IMPRISONMENT. 

but  it  was  my  lot,  as  usual,  to  lose  these  delightful  friends 
when  I  had  become  most  attached  to  them.  They  removed 
from  the  castle,  and  the  sweet  children  no  longer  made  their 
appearance  upon  the  terraoe.  I  felt  this  double  deprivation 
more  than  I  can  express. 


CHAPTER  LXVH. 

THE  inconvenience  I  experienced  from  the  chain  upon  my 
legs,  which  prevented  me  from  sleeping,  destroyed  my 
health.  Schiller  wished  me  to  petition,  declaring  that  it 
was  the  duty  of  the  physician  to  order  it  to  be  taken  off. 
For  some  time  I  refused  to  listen  to  him,  I  then  yielded, 
and  informed  the  doctor  that,  in  order  to  obtain  a  little 
sleep,  I  should  be  thankful  to  have  the  chain  removed,  if 
only  for  a  few  days.  He  answered  that  my  fever  was  not 
yet  so  bad  as  to  require  it;  and  that  it  was  necessary  I 
should  become  accustomed  to  the  chain.  I  felt  indignant  at 
this  reply,  and  more  so  at  myself  for  having  asked  the 
favour.  "See  what  I  have  got  by  following  your  advice," 
said  I  to  Schiller ;  and  I  said  it  in  a  very  sharp  tone,  not  a 
little  offensive  to  the  old  man. 

"You  are  vexed,"  he  exclaimed,  "because  you  met  with 
a  denial ;  and  I  am  as  much  so  with  your  arrogance !  Could 
I  help  it?"  He  then  began  a  long  sermon.  "The  proud 
value  themselves  mightily  in  never  exposing  themselves  to 
a  refusal,  in  never  accepting  an  offer,  in  being  ashamed  at 
a  thousand  little  matters.  Alle  eselen,  asses  as  they  all 
are.  Vain  grandeur,  want  of  true  dignity,  which  consists 
in  being  ashamed  only  of  bad  actions  !  "  He  went  off,  and 
made  the  door  ring  with  a  tremendous  noise. 

I  was  dismayed;  yet  his  rough  sincerity  scarcely  dis- 
pleased me.  Had  he  not  spoken  the  truth  ?  to  how  many 
weaknesses  had  I  not  given  the  name  of  dignity !  the  result 
of  nothing  but  pride. 


MY  TEN  TEARS'  IMPRISONMENT.  141 

At  the  dinner  hour  Schiller  left  my  fare  to  the  convict 
Kunda,  who  brought  me  some  water,  while  Schiller  stood 
outside.  I  called  him.  "  I  have  no  time,"  he  replied,  very 
drily. 

I  rose,  and  going  to  him,  said,  "  If  you  wish  my  dinner 
to  agree  with  me,  pray  don't  look  so  horribly  sour ;  it  is 
worse  than  vinegar." 

"And  how  ought  I  to  look?"  he  asked,  rather  more 
appeased. 

"  Cheerful,  and  like  a  friend,"  was  my  reply.  . 

"  Let  us  be  merry,  then !  Viva  Pallegria  ! "  cried  the  old 
man.  "  And  if  it  will  make  your  dinner  agree  with  you,  I 
will  dance  you  a  hornpipe  into  the  bargain."  And,  assum- 
ing a  broad  grin,  he  set  to  work  with  his  long,  lean,  spindle 
shanks,  which  he  worked  about  like  two  huge  stilts,  till  I 
thought  I  should  have  died  with  laughing.  I  laughed  and 
almost  cried  at  the  same  time. 


CHAPTER   LXVIH. 

ONE  evening  Count  Oroboni  and  I  were  standing  at  our 
windows  complaining  of  the  low  diet  to  which  we  were 
subjected.  Animated  by  the  subject,  we  talked  a  little  too 
loud,  and  the  sentinels  began  to  upbraid  us.  The  superin- 
tendent, indeed,  called  in  a  loud  voice  to  Schiller,  as  he 
happened  to  be  passing,  inquiring  in  a  threatening  voice 
why  he  did  not  keep  a  better  watch,  and  teach  us  to  be 
silent  ?  Schiller  came  in  a  great  rage  to  complain  of  me, 
and  ordered  me  never  more  to  think  of  speaking  from  the 
window.  He  wished  me  to  promise  that  I  would  not. 
"  No ! "  replied  I ;  "  I  shall  do  no  such  thing." 
"  Oh,  der  Teufel ;  der  Teufel ! "  *  exclaimed  the  old  man ; 
"do  you  say  that  to  me?  Have  I  not  had  a  horrible 
•trapping  on  your  account  ?  " 

•  The  Devil!  the  Devil  I 


142  MY  TEN  TEAKS'  IMPRISONMENT. 

"  I  am  sorry,  dear  Schiller,  if  you  have  suffered  on  my 
account.  But  I  cannot  promise  what  I  do  not  mean  to 
perform." 

"  And  -why  not  perform  it  P  " 

"Because  I  cannot;  hecause  this  continual  solitude  is 
such  a  torment  to  me.  No  !  I  will  speak  as  long  as  I  have 
breath,  and  invite  my  neighbour  to  talk  to  me.  If  he 
refuse  I  will  talk  to  my  window-bars,  I  will  talk  to  the  hills 
before  me,  I  will  talk  to  the  birds  as  they  fly  about.  I  will 
talk ! " 

' '  Der  Teufel !  you  will !     You  had  better  promise ! " 

"  No,  no,  no !  never !  "  I  exclaimed. 

He  threw  down  his  huge  bunch  of  keys,  and  ran  about, 
crying,  "  Der  Teufel !  der  Teufel !  "  Then,  all  at  once,  he 

threw  his  long  bony  arms  about  my  neck :  "  By ,  and 

you  shall  talk !  Am  I  to  cease  to  be  a  man  because  of  this 
vile  mob  of  keys  ?  You  are  a  gentleman,  and  I  like  your 
spirit !  I  know  you  will  not  promise.  I  would  do  the  same 
in  your  place." 

I  picked  up  his  keys  and  presented  them  to  him.  "  These 
keys,"  said  I,  "  are  not  so  bad  after  all ;  they  cannot  turn 
an  honest  soldier,  like  you,  into  a  villainous  syherro." 

"  Why,  if  I  thought  they  could,  I  would  hand  them  back 
to  my  superiors,  and  say,  '  If  you  will  give  me  no  bread  but 
the  wages  of  a  hangman,  I  will  go  and  beg  alms  from  door 
to  door.' " 

He  took  out  his  handkerchief,  dried  his  eyes,  and  then, 
raising  them,  seemed  to  pray  inwardly  for  some  time.  I, 
too,  offered  up  my  secret  prayers  for  this  good  old  man. 
He  saw  it,  and  took  my  hand  with  a  look  of  grateful 
respect. 

"Upon  leaving  me  he  said,  in  a  low  voice,  "When  you 
speak  with  Count  Oroboni,  speak  as  I  do  now.  You  will  do 
me  a  double  kindness :  I  shall  hear  no  more  cruel  threat*  of 
my  lord  superintendent,  and  by  not  allowing  any  remarks 


MY  TEN  YEARS'  IMPRISONMENT.  145 

of  yours  to  be  repeated  in  his  ear,  you  will  avoid  giving- 
fresh  irritation  to  one  who  knows  how  to  punish." 

I  assured  him  that  not  a  word  should  come  from  either  of 
our  lips  which  could  possibly  give  cause  of  offence.  In 
fact,  we  required  no  further  instructions  to  be  cautious. 
Two  prisoners  desirous  of  communication  are  skilful  enough, 
to  invent  a  language  of  their  own,  without  the  least  danger 
of  its  being  interpreted  by  any  listener. 


CHAPTER  LXIX. 

I  HAD  just  been  taking  my  morning's  walk ;  it  was  the  7th 
of  August.  Oroboni's  dungeon  door  was  standing  open; 
Schiller  was  in  it,  and  he  was  not  sensible  of  my  approach. 
My  guards  pressed  forward  in  order  to  close  my  friend's 
door,  but  I  was  too  quick  for  them  ;  I  darted  into  the  room, 
and  the  next  moment  found  myself  in  the  arms  of  Count 
Oroboni. 

Schiller  was  in  dismay,  and  cried  out  "  Der  Teufel !  der 
Teufcl ! "  most  vigorously,  at  the  same  time  raising  his 
finger  in  a  threatening  attitude.  It  was  in  vain,  for  his  eyes 
filled  with  tears,  and  he  cried  out,  sobbing,  "  Oh,  my  God  i 
take  pity  on  these  poor  young  men  and  me ;  on  all  the 
unhappy  like  them,  my  God,  who  knows  what  it  is  to  be  so 
very  unhappy  upon  earth  ! "  The  guards,  also,  both  wept ; 
the  sentinel  on  duty  in  the  gallery  ran  to  the  spot,  and  even, 
he  caught  the  infection. 

"  Silvio  !  Silvio !  "  exclaimed  the  Count,  "  this  is  the  most- 
delightful  day  of  my  life !  "  I  know  not  how  I  answered, 
him ;  I  was  nearly  distracted  with  joy  and  affection. 

When  Schiller  at  length  beseeched  us  to  separate,  and  it 
was  necessary  we  should  obey,  Oroboni  burst  into  a  flood  of 
tears.  "  Are  we  never  to  see  each  other  again  upon  earth  ?  "" 
he  exclaimed,  in  a  wild,  prophetic  tone. 

Alas  !     I  never  saw  him  more !    A  very  few  months  after 


144  MY  TEN  YEARS'  IMPRISONMENT. 

this  parting,  his  dungeon  was  empty,  and  Oroboni  lay  at 
rest  in  the  cemetery,  on  which  I  looked  out  from  my 
window ! 

From  the  moment  we  had  met,  it  seemed  as  if  the  tie 
which  hound  us  were  drawn  closer  round  our  hearts ;  and 
we  were  become  still  more  necessary  to  each  other. 

He  was  a  fine  young  man,  with  a  noble  countenance,  but 
pale,  and  in  poor  health.  Still,  his  eyes  retained  all  their 
lustre.  My  affection  for  him  was  increased  by  a  knowledge 
of  his  extreme  weakness  and  sufferings.  He  felt  for  me  in 
the  same  manner ;  we  saw  by  how  frail  a  tenure  hung  the 
lives  of  both,  and  that  one  must  speedily  be  the  survivor. 

In  a  few  days  he  became  worse ;  I  could  only  grieve1  and 
pray  for  him.  After  several  feverish  attacks,  he  recovered 
a  little,  and  was  even  enabled  to  resume  our  conversations. 
What  ineffable  pleasure  I  experienced  on  hearing  once 
more  the  sound  of  his  voice  !  "  You  seem  glad,"  he  said, 
"  but  do  not  deceive  yourself ;  it  is  but  for  a  short  time. 
Have  the  courage  to  prepare  for  my  departure,  and  your 
virtuous  resolution  will  inspire  me  also  with  courage !  " 

At  this  period  the  walls  of  our  prison  were  about  to  be 
whitewashed,  and  meantime  we  were  to  take  up  our  abode  in 
the  caverns  below.  Unfortunately  they  placed  us  in  dungeons 
apart  from  each  other.  But  Schiller  told  me  that  the  Count 
was  well;  though  I  had  my  doubts,  and  dreaded  lest  his  health 
should  receive  a  last  blow  from  the  effects  of  his  subterranean 
abode.  If  I  had  only  had  the  good  fortune,  thought  I,  to 
be  near  my  friend  Maroncelli ;  I  could  distinguish  his  voice, 
however,  as  he  sung.  We  spoke  to  each  other,  spite  of  the 
shouts  and  conversation  of  the  guards.  At  the  same 
period,  the  head  physician  of  Briinn  paid  us  a  visit.  He 
•\v;is  sent  in  consequence  of  tho  report  made  by  the  super- 
intendent in  regard  to  the  extreme  ill  health  of  the 
prisoners  from  the  scanty  allowance  of  food.  A  scorbutic 
epidemic  was  already  fast  emptying  the  dungeons.  Kot 


MY  TEN  YEARS'  IMPRISONMENT.  145 

aware  of  the  cause  of  his  visit,  I  imagined  that  he  came  to 
see  Oroboni,  and  my  anxiety  was  inexpressible;  I  was 
bowed  down  with  sorrow,  and  I  too  wished  to  die.  The 
thought  of  suicide  again  tormented  me.  I  struggled, 
indeed ;  but  I  felt  like  the  weary  traveller,  who  though 
compelled  to  press  forward,  feels  an  almost  irresistible 
desire  to  throw  himself  upon  the  ground  and  rest. 

I  had  been  just  informed  that  in  one  of  those  subter- 
ranean dens  an  aged  Bohemian  gentleman  had  recently 
destroyed  himself  by  beating  his  head  against  the  walls. 
I  wish  I  had  not  heard  it ;  for  I  could  not,  do  what  I 
would,  banish  the  temptation  to  imitate  him.  It  was  a 
sort  of  delirium,  and  would  most  probably  have  ended  in 
suicide,  had  not  a  violent  gush  of  bjood  from  my  chest, 
which  made  me  think  that  death  was  close  at  hand,  re- 
lieved me.  I  was  thankful  to  God  that  it  should  happen 
in  this  manner,  and  spare  me  an  act  of  desperation,  which 
my  reason  so  strongly  condemned.  But  Providence 
ordered  it  otherwise ;  I  found  myself  considerably  better 
after  the  discharge  of  blood  from  my  lungs.  Meantime, 
I  was  removed  to  the  prison  above,  and  the  additional  light, 
with  the  vicinity  of  my  friend  Oroboni,  reconciled  me  to 
life.  

CHAPTER  LXX. 

I  FIRST  informed  the  Count  of  the  terrific  melancholy  I 
had  endured  when  separated  from  him  ;  and  he  declared  he 
had  been  haunted;  with  a  similar  temptation  to  suicide. 
"  Let  us  take  advantage,"  he  said,  "  of  the  little  time  that 
remains  for  us,  by  mutually  consoling  each  other.  We 
•will  speak  of  God ;  emulate  each  other  in  loving  him,  and 
inculcate  upon  each  other  that  he  only  is  Justice,  Wisdom, 
Goodness,  Beauty  —  is  all  which  is  most  worthy  to  be 
reverenced  and  adored.  I  tell  you,  friend,  of  a  truth,  that 
death  is  not  far  from  me.  I  shall  be  eternally  grateful, 


146  MY  TEN  YEARS'  IMPRISONMENT. 

Silvio,  if  you  will  help  me,  in  these  my  last  moments,  to 
become  as  religious  as  I  ought'  to  have  been  during  my 
whole  life." 

We  now,  therefore,  confined  our  conversation  wholly  to 
religious  subjects,  especially  to  drawing  parallels  between 
the  Christian  philosophy  and  that  of  mere  worldly 
founders  of  the  Epicurean  schools.  We  were  both  de- 
lighted to  discover  so  strict  an  union  between  Christianity 
and  reason;  and  both,  on  a  comparison  of  the  different 
evangelical  communions,  fully  agreed  that  the  catholic  was 
the  only  one  which  could  successfully  resist  the  test  of 
criticism, — which  consisted  of  the  purest  doctrines  and  the 
purest  morality — not  of  those  wretched  extremes,  the  pro- 
duct of  human  ignorance. 

"  And  if  by  any  unexpected  accident,"  observed  Oroboni, 
"  we  should  be  restored  to  society,  should  we  be  so  mean-  • 
spirited  as  to  shrink  from  confessing  our  faith  in  the  Gos- 
pel ?   Should  we  stand  firm  if  accused  of  having  changed 
our  sentiments  in  consequence  of  prison  discipline?" 

"Your  question,  my  dear  Oroboni,"  I  replied,  "ac- 
quaints me  with  the  nature  of  your  reply ;  it  is  also  mine. 
The  vilest  servility  is  that  of  being  subjected  to  the 
opinions  of  others,  when  we  feel  a  persuasion  at  the  same 
time  that  they  are  false.  I  cannot  believe  that  either  you 
or  I  could  be  guilty  of  so  much  meanness."  During  these 
confidential  communications  of  our  sentiments,  I  com- 
mitted one  fault.  I  had  pledged  my  honour  to  Julian 
never  to  reveal,  by  mention  of  his  real  name,  the  corres- 
pondence which  had  passed  between  us.  I  informed  poor 
Oroboni  of  it  all,  observing  that  "  it  never  should  escape  my 
lips  in  any  other  place ;  but  here  we  are  immured  as  in  a 
tomb ;  and  even  should  you  get  free,  I  know  I  can  confide 
in  you  as  in  myself." 

My  excellent  friend  returned  no  answer.  "Why  are 
you  silent  P  "  I  enquired.  He  then  seriously  upbraided  me 


MY  TEN  YEARS'  IMPRISONMENT.  147 

for  having  broken  my  word  and  betrayed  my  friend's  secret. 
His  reproach  was  just ;  no  friendship,  however  intimate, 
however  fortified  by  virtue,  can  authorise  such  a  violation 
of  confidence,  guaranteed,  as  it  had  been,  by  a  sacred  vow. 

Since,  however,  it  was  done,  Oroboni  was  desirous  of 
turning  my  fault  to  a  good  account.  He  was  acquainted 
with  Julian,  and  related  several  traits  of  character,  highly 
honourable  to  him.  "  Indeed,"  he  added,  "  he  has  so  often 
acted  like  a  true  Christian,  that  he  will  never  carry  his 
enmity  to  such  a  religion  to  the  grave  with  him.  Let  us 
hope  so  ;  let  us  not  cease  to  hope.  And  you,  Silvio,  try  to 
pardon  his  ill-humour  from  your  heart ;  and  pray  for 
him  ! "  His  words  were  held  sacred  by  me. 


CHAPTER  LXXL 

THE  conversations  of  which  I  speak,  sometimes  with 
Oroboni,  and  sometimes  with  Schiller,  occupied  but  a  small 
portion  of  the  twenty-four  hours  daily  upon  my  hands. 
It  was  not  always,  moreover,  that  I  could  converse  with 
Oroboni.  How  was  I  to  pass  the  solitary  hours  ?  I  was 
accustomed  to  rise  at  dawn,  and  mounting  upon  the  top  of 
my  table,  I  grasped  the  bars  of  my  window,  and  there 
said  my  prayers.  The  Count  was  already  at  his  window, 
or  speedily  followed  my  example.  We  saluted  each  other, 
and  continued  for  a  time  in  secret  prayer.  Horrible  as  our 
dungeons  were,  they  made  us  more  truly  sensible  of  the 
beauty  of  the  world  without,  and  the  landscape  that  §  spread 
around  us.  The  sky,  the  plains,  the  far  off  noise  and 
motions  of  animals  in  the  valley,  the  voices  of  the  village 
maidens,  the  laugh,  the  song,  had  a  charm  for  us  it  is 
difficult  to  express,  and  made  us  more  dearly  sensible  of 
the  presence  of  him  who  is  so  magnificent  in  his  goodness, 
and  of  whom  we  ever  stand  in  so  much  need. 

The  morning   visit  of  the   guards   was   devoted  to  an 


examination  of  my  dungeon,  to  see  that  all  was  in  order. 
They  felt  at  my  chain,  link  by  link,  to  be  sure  that  no 
conspiracy  was  at  work,  or  rather  in  obedience  to  the  laws 
of  discipline  which  bound  them.  If  it  were  the  day  for 
the  doctor's  visit,  Schiller  was  accustomed  to  ask  us  if  we 
wished  to  see  him,  and  to  make  a  note  to  that  effect. 

The  search  being  over,  Schiller  made  his  appearance, 
accompanied  by  Kunda,  whose  care  it  was  to  clean  our 
rooms.  Shortly  after  he  brought  our  breakfast — a  little 
pot  of  hogwash,  and  three  small  slices  of  coarse  bread. 
The  bread  I  was  able  to  eat,  but  could  not  contrive  to 
drink  the  swill. 

It  was  next  my  business  to  apply  to  study.  Maroncelli 
had  brought  a  number  of  books  from  Italy,  as  well  as  some 
other  of  our  fellow-prisoners — some  more,  and  some  less, 
but  altogether  they  formed  a  pretty  good  library.  This, 
too,  we  hoped  to  enlarge  by  some  purchases ;  but  awaited 
an  answer  from  the  Emperor,  as  to  whether  we  might  be 
permitted  to  read  them  and  buy  others.  Meantime  the 
governor  gave  us  permission,  provisionally,  to  have  each 
two  books  at  a  time,  and  to  exchange  them  when  we 
pleased.  About  nine  came  the  superintendent,  and  if  the 
doctor  had  been  summoned,  he  accompanied  him. 

I  was  allowed  another  interval  for  study  between  this 
and  the  dinner  hour  at  eleven.  We  hud  then  no  further 
visits  till  sunset,  and  I  returned  to  my  studies.  Schiller 
and  Kunda  then  appeared  with  a  change  of  water,  and  a 
moment  afterwards,  the  superintendent  with  the  guards  to 
make  their  evening  inspection,  never  forgetting  my  chain. 
Either  before  or  after  dinner,  as  best  pleased  the  guards, 
-,ve  were  permitted  in  turn  to  take  our  hour's  walk.  The 
evening  search  being  over,  Oroboni  and  I  began  our 
conversation,— always  more  extended  than  at  any  other 
hour.  The  other  periods  were,  as  related  in  the  morn- 
ing, or  directly  after  dinner  —  but  our  words  were  then 


MY  TEN  YEARS'  IMPRISONMENT.  149 

generally  very  brief.  At  times  the  sentinels  were  so  kind  as 
to  say  to  us  :  "A  little  lower  key,  gentlemen,  or  otherwise 
the  punishment  will  fall  upon  us."  Not  unfrequently  they 
would  pretend  not  to  see  us,  and  if  the  sergeant  appeared, 
begged  us  to  stop  till  he  were  past,  when  they  told  us  we 
might  talk  again  —  "But  as  low  as  you  possibly  can, 
gentlemen,  if  you  please  !  " 

Nay,  it  happened  that  they  would  quietly  accost  us  them- 
selves ;  answer  our  questions,  and  give  us  some  information 
respecting  Italy. 

Touching  upon  some  topics,  they  entreated  of  us  to  bfr 
silent,  refusing  to  give  any  answer.  We  were  naturally 
doubtful  whether  these  voluntary  conversations,  on  their 
part,  were  really  sincere,  or  the  result  of  an  artful  attempt 
to  pry  into  our  secret  opinions. 

.  I  am,  however,  inclined  to  think  that  they  meant  it  all  in 
good  part,  and  spoke  to  us  in  perfect  kindness  and  frankness 
of  heart.  

CHAPTEK  LXXII. 

ONE  evening  the  sentinels  were  more  than  usually  kind  and 
forbearing,  and  poor  Oroboni  and  I  conversed  without  in 
the  least  suppressing  our  voices.  Maroncelli,  in  his  subter- 
raneous abode,  caught  the  sound,  and  climbing  up  to  the 
window,  listened  and  distinguished  my  voice.  He  could 
not  restrain  his  joy  ;  but  sung  out  my  name,  with  a  hearty 
welcome.  He  then  asked  me  how  I  was,  and  expressed  his 
regret  that  he  had  not  yet  been  permitted  to  share  the  same 
dungeon.  This  favour  I  had,  in  fact,  already  petitioned 
for,  but  neither  the  superintendent  nor  the  governor  had 
the  power  of  granting  it.  Our  united  wishes  upon  the 
same  point  had  been  represented  to  the  Emperor,  but  no 
answer  had  hitherto  been  received  by  the  governor  of 
Brunn.  Besides  the  instance  in  which  we  saluted  each  other 
in  song,  when  in  our  subterraneous  abodes,  I  had  since- 


150  MY  TEN  YEARS'  IMPRISONMENT. 

heard  the  songs  of  the  heroic  Maroncelli,  by  fits  and  starts, 
in  my  dungeon  above.  He  now  raised  his  voice  ;  he  was 
no  longer  interrupted,  and  I  caught  all  he  said.  I  replied, 
and  we  continued  the  dialogue  about  a  quarter  of  an  hour 
Finally,  they  changed  the  sentinels  upon  the  terrace,  and 
the  successors  were  not  "  of  gentle  mood."  Often  did  we 
recommence  the  song,  and  as  often  were  interrupted  by 
furious  cries,  and  curses,  and  threats,  which  we  were  com- 
pelled to  obey. 

Alas  !  my  fancy  often  pictured  to  me  the  form  of  my  friend, 
languishing  in  that  dismal  abode  so  much  worse  than  my 
own  ;  I  thought  of  the  bitter  grief  that  must  appress  him, 
and  the  effect  upon  his  health,  and  bemoaned  his  fate  in 
silence.  Tears  brought  me  no  relief ;  the  pains  in  my  head 
returned,  with  acute  fever.  I  could  no  longer  stand,  and 
took  to  iny  straw  bed.  Convulsions  came  on ;  the  spasms 
in  my  breast  were  terrible.  Of  a  truth,  I  believed  that  that 
night  was  my  last. 

The  following  day  the  fever  ceased,  my  chest  was 
relieved,  but  the  inflammation  seemed  to  have  seized  my 
brain,  'and  I  could  not  move  my  head  without  the  most 
excruciating  pain.  I  informed  Oroboni  of  my  condition , 
and  he  too  was  even  worse  than  usual.  "  My  dear  friend," 
said  he,  "  the  day  is  near  when  one  or  other  of  us  will  no 
longer  be  able  to  reach  the  window.  Each  time  we  welcome 
one  another  may  be  the  last.  Let  us  hold  ourselves  in 
readiness,  then,  to  die — yes  to  die  !  or  to  survive  a  friend." 
His  voice  trembled  with  emotion ;  I  could  not  speak  a  word 
in  reply.  There  was  a  pause,  and  he  then  resumed,  "  How 
fortunate  you  are  in  knowing  the  German  language  !  You 
can  at  least  have  the  advantage  of  a  priest ;  I  cannot  obtain 
one  acquainted  with  the  Italian.  But  God  is  conscious  of 
my  wishes;  I  made  confession  at  Venice — and  in  truth, 
it  does  not  seem  that  I  have  met  with  anything  since  that 
loads  my  conscience." 


MY  TEN  YEARS'  IMPRISONMENT.  151 

"  I,  on  the  contrary,  confessed  at  Venice,"  said  I,  "  with 
my  heart  full  of  ijincour,  much  worse  than  if  I  had  wholly 
refused  the  sacrament.  But  if  I  could  find  a  priest,  I  would 
now  confess  myself  with  all  my  heart,  and  pardon  every- 
body, I  can  assure  you." 

"  God  hless  you,  Silvio ! "  he  exclaimed,  "  you  give  me 
the  greatest  consolation  I  can  receive.  Yes,  yes ;  dear 
friead !  let  us  hoth  do  all  in  our  power  to  merit  a  joyful 
meeting  where  we  shall  no  more  be  separated,  where  we 
shall  be  united  in  happiness,  as  now  we  are  in  these  last 
trying  hours  of  our  calamity." 

The  next  day  I  expected  him  as  usual  at  the  window. 
But  he  came  not,  and  I  learnt  from  Schiller  that  he  was 
grievously  ill.  In  eight  or  ten  days  he  recovered,  and  re- 
appeared at  his  accustomed  station.  I  complained  to  him 
bitterly,  but  he  consoled  me.  A  few  months  passed  in  this 
strange  alternation  of  suffering ;  sometimes  it  was  he,  at 
others  I,  who  was  unable  even  to  reach  our  window. 


CHAPTER  LXXIH. 

I  WAS  enabled  to  keep  up  until  the  llth  of  January,  1823. 
On  that  morning,  I  rose  with  a  slight  pain  in  my  head,  and 
a  strong  tendency  to  fainting.  My  legs  trembled,  and  I 
could  scarcely  draw  my  breath. 

Poor  Oroboni,  also,  had  been  unable  to  rise  from  his  straw 
for  several  days  past.  They  brought  me  some  soup,  I  took 
a  spoonful,  and  then  fell  back  in  a  swoon.  Some  time 
afterwards  the  sentinel  in  the  gallery,  happening  to  look 
through  the  pane  of  my  door,  saw  me  lying  senseless  on  the 
ground,  with  the  pot  of  soup  at  my  side ;  and  believing  me 
to  be  dead,  he  called  Schiller,  who  hastened,  as  well  as  the 
superintendent,  to  the  spot. 

The  doctor  was  soon  in  attendance,  and  they  put  me  on 
my  bed.  I  was  restored  with  great  difficulty.  Perceiving 


152  MY  TEN  TEAKS'  IMPRISONMENT. 

I  was  in  danger,  the  physician  ordered  my  irons  to  be  taken 
off.  He  then  gave  me  some  kind  of  cordial,  but  it  would 
not  stay  on  my  stomach,  while  the  pain  in  my  head  was 
horrible.  A  report  was  forthwith  sent  to  the  governor, 
who  despatched  a  courier  to  Vienna,  to  ascertain  in  what 
manner  I  was  to  be  treated.  The  answer  received,  was, 
that  I  should  not  be  placed  in  the  infirmary,  but  was  to 
receive  the  same  attendance  in  my  dungeon  as  was  customary 
in  the  former  place.  The  superintendent  was  further 
authorised  to  supply  me  with  soup  from  his  own  kitchen  so 
long  as  I  should  continue  unwell. 

The  last  provision  of  the  order  received  was  wholly 
useless,  as  neither  food  nor  beverage  would  stay  on  my 
stomach.  I  grew  worse  during  a  whole  week,  and  was 
delirious  without  intermission,  both  day  and  night. 

Krai  and  Kubitzky  were  appointed  to  take  care  of  me, 
and  both  were  exceedingly  attentive.  Whenever  I  showed 
the  least  return  of  reason,  Krai  was  accustomed  to  say, 
"  There  !  have  faith  in  God  ;  God  alone  is  good." 

"  Pray  for  me,"  I  stammered  out,  when  a  lucid  interval 
first  appeared  ;  "  pray  for  me  not  to  live,  but  that  he  will 
accept  my  misfortunes  and  my  death  as  an  expiation."  He 
suggested  that  I  should  take  the  sacrament. 

"  If  I  asked  it  not,  attribute  it  to  my  poor  head;  it  would 
be  a  great  consolation  to  me." 

Krai  reported  my  words  to  the  superintendent,  and  the 
chaplain  of  the  prisons  came  to  me.  I  made  my  confession, 
received  the  communion,  and  took  the  holy  oil.  The  priest's 
name  was  Sturm,  and  I  was  satisfied  with  him.  The  re- 
flections he  made  upon  the  justice  of  God,  upon  the  in- 
justice of  man,  upon  the  duty  of  forgiveness,  and  upon  the 
vanity  of  all  earthly  things,  were  not  out  of  place.  They 
bore  moreover  the  stamp  of  a  dignified  and  well-cultivated 
mind  as  well  as  an  ardent  feeling  of  true  love  towards  God 
r,nd  our  neighbour. 


MY  TEN  TEARS'  IMPRISONMENT.  153 

CHAPTER  LXXIV. 

THB  exertion  I  made  to  receive  the  sacrament  exhausted  my 
remaining  strength ;  but  it  was  of  use,  as  I  fell  into  a  deep 
sleep,  which  continued  several  hours. 

On  awaking  I  felt  somewhat  refreshed,  and  observing 
Schiller  and  Krai  near  me,  I  took  them  by  the  hand, 
and  thanked  them  for  their  care.  Schiller  fixed  his  eyes 
on  me. 

"  I  am  accustomed,"  he  said,  "  to  see  persons  at  the  last, 
and  I  would  lay  a  wager  that  you  will  not  die." 

"  Are  you  not  giving  me  a  bad  prognostic  ?  "  said  I. 

"  No  ;  "  he  replied,  "the  miseries  of  life  are  great  it  ia 
true ;  but  he  who  supports  them  with  dignity  and  with 
humility  must  always  gain  something  by  living."  He  then 
added,  "  If  you  live,  I  hope  you  will  some  day  meet  with 
consolation  you  had  not  expested.  You  were  petitioning  to 
see  your  friend  Signor  Maroncelli." 

"  So  many  times,  that  I  no  longer  hope  for  it." 

"  Hope,  hope,  sir  ;  and  repeat  your  request." 

I  did  so  that  very  day.  The  superintendent  also  gave 
me  hopes  ;  and  added,  that  probably  I  should  not  only  be 
permitted  to  see  him,  but  that  he  would  attend  on  me,  and 
most  likely  become  my  undivided  companion. 

It  appeared,  that  as  all  the  state  prisoners  had  fallen  ill, 
the  governor  had  requested  permission  from  Vienna  to 
have  them  placed  two  and  two,  in  order  that  one  might  assist 
the  other  in  case  of  extreme  need. 

I  had  also  solicited  the  favour  of  writing  to  my  family 
for  the  last  time. 

Towards  the  end  of  the  second  week,  my  attack  reached 
its  crisis,  and  the  danger  was  over.  I  liad  begun  to  sit  up, 
when  one  morning  my  door  opened,  and  the  superinten- 
dent, Schiller,  and  the  doctor,  all  apparently  rejoicing,  came 
into  my  apartment.  The  first  ran  towards  me,  exclaiming, 


154  MY  TEN  TEAKS'  IMPRISONMENT. 

"Wo  have  got  permission  for  Maroncelli  to  bear  you 
company ;  and  you  may  write  to  your  parents." 

Joy  deprived  me  both  of  breath  and  speech,  and  the  super- 
intendent, who  in  his  kindness  had  not  been  quite  prudent, 
believed  that  he  had  killed  me.  On  recovering  my  senses, 
and  recollecting  the  good  news,  I  entreated  not  to  have  it 
delayed.  The  physician  consented,  and  my  friend  Maron- 
celli was  conducted  to  my  bedside.  Oh !  what  a  moment 
was  that. 

"Are  you  alive  ?  "  each  of  us  exclaimed. 

"  Oh,  my  friend,  my  brother — what  a  happy  day  have 
we  lived  to  see!  God's  name  be  ever  blessed  for  it."  But 
our  joy  was  mingled  with  as  deep  compassion.  Marom-olli 
was  less  surprised  upon  seeing  me,  reduced  as  I  was,  for  he 
knew  that  I  had  been  very  ill,  but  though  aware  how  HB 
must  have  suffered,  I  could  not  have  imagined  he  would  be 
BO  extremely  changed.  He  was  hardly  to  be  recognised  ; 
his  once  noble  and  handsome  features  were  wholly  con- 
sumed, as  it  were,  by  grief,  by  continual  hunger,  and  by  the 
bad  air  of  his  dark,  subterranean  dungeon. 

Nevertheless,  to  see,  to  hear,  and  to  be  near  each  other 
was  a  great  comfort.  How  much  had  we  to  communicate 
— to  recollect —  and  to  talk  over !  What  delight  in  our 
mutual  compassion,  what  sympathy  in  all  our  ideas  !  Then 
we  were  equally  agreed  upon  subjects  of  religion ;  to  hate 
only  ignorance  and  barbarism,  but  not  man,  not  individuals, 
and  on  the  other  hand  to  commiserate  the  ignorant  and  the 
barbarous,  and  to  pray  for  their  improvement. 


CHAPTER  LXXV. 

I  WAS  now  presented  with  a  sheet  of  paper  and  ink,  in  order 
that  I  might  write  to  my  parents. 

As  in  point  of  strictness  the  permission  was  only  given  to 
a  dying  man,  desirous  of  bidding  a  last  adieu  to  his  family, 


MY  TEN  YEARS'  IMPRISONMENT.  155 

I  was  apprehensive  that  the  letter  being  now  of  a  different 
tenour,  it  would  no  longer  be  sent  upon  its  destination.  I 
confined  myself  to  the  simple  duty  of  beseeching  my  parents, 
my  brothers,  and  my  sisters,  to  resign  themselves  without  a 
murmur  to  bear  the  lot  appointed  rne,  even  as  I  myself  was 
resigned  to  the  will  of  God. 

This  letter  was,  nevertheless,  forwarded,  as  I  subse- 
quently learnt.  It  was,  in  fact,  the  only  one  which,  during 
so  long  protracted  a  captivity,  was  received  by  my  family ; 
the  rest  were  all  detained  at  Vienna.  My  companions  in 
misfortune  were  equally  cut  off  from  all  communication 
with  their  friends  and  families. 

We  repeatedly  solicited  that  we-might  bo  allowed  the  use 
of  pen  and  paper  for  purposes  of  study,  and  that  we  might 
purchase  books  with  our  own  money.  Neither  of .  these 
petitions  was  granted. 

The  governor,  meanwhile,  permitted  us  to  read  our  own 
books  among  each  other.  We  were  indebted  also  to  his 
goodness  for  an  improvement  in  our  diet ;  but  it  did  not 
continue.  He  had  consented  that  wo  should  be  supplied 
from  the  kitchen  of  the  superintendent  instead  of  that  of 
the  contractor ;  and  some  fund  had  been  put  apart  for 
that  purpose.  The  order,  however,  was  not  confirmed; 
but  in  the  brief  interval  it  was  in  force  my  health  had 
greatly  improved.  It  was  the  same  with  Maroncelli ;  but 
for  the  unhappy  Oroboni  it  came  too  late.  He  had  re- 
ceived for  his  companion  the  advocate  Solera,  and  after- 
wards the  priest,  Dr.  Fortini. 

We  were  no  sooner  distributed  through  the  different 
prisons  than  the  prohibition  to  appear  or  to  converse  at 
our  windows  was  renewed,  with  threats  that,  if  detected, 
the  offenders  would  be  consigned  to  utter  solitude.  We 
often,  it  is  true,  broke  through  this  prison-law,  and 
saluted  each  other  from  our  windows,  but  no  longer  en- 
gaged in  long  conversations  as  we  had  before  done. 


156  MY   TEN  YEABS'   IMPRISONMENT. 

In  point  of  disposition,  Maroncelli  and  I  were  admirably 
suited  to  each  other.  The  courage  of  the  one  sustained 
the  other ;  if  one  became  violent  the  other  soothed  him ; 
if  buried  in  grief  or  gloom,  he  sought  to  rouse  him; 
and  one  friendly  smile  was  often  enough  to  mitigate  the 
severity  of  our  sufferings,  and  reconcile  each  other  to 
life. 

So  long  as  we  had  books,  we  found  them  a  delightful 
relief,  not  only  by  reading,  but  by  committing  them  to 
memory.  We  also  examined,  compared,  criticised,  and 
collated,  &c.  We  read  and  we  reflected  great  part  of 
the  day  in  silence,  and  reserved  the  feast  of  conversation 
for  the  hours  of  dinner,  for  our  walks,  and  the  evenings. 

While  in  his  subterranean  abode,  Maroncelli  had  com- 
posed a  variety  of  poems  of  high  merit.  He  recited  them 
and  produced  others.  Many  of  these  I  committed  to 
memory.  It  is  astonishing  with  what  facility  I  was 
enabled,  by  this  exercise,  to  repeat  very  extensive  com- 
positions, to  give  them  additional  polish,  and  bring  them 
to  the  highest  possible  perfection  of  which  they  were 
susceptible,  even  had  I  written  them  down  with  the  utmost 
care.  Maroncelli  did  the  same,  and,  by  degrees,  retained  by 
heart  .many  thousand  .lyric  verses,  and  epics  of  different 
kinds.  It  was  thus,  too,  I  composed  the  tragedy  of 
Leoniero  da  Dertona,  and  various  other  works. 


CHAPTER  LXXVI. 

COUNT  OROBONI,  after  lingering  through  a  wretched  winter 
and  the  ensuing  spring,  found  himself  much  worse  during 
the  summer.  He  was  seized  with  a  spitting  of  blood,  and  a 
dropsy  ensued.  Imagine  our  affliction  on  learning  that  he 
was  dying  so  near  us,  without  a  possibility  of  our  rendering 
him  the  last  sad  offices,  separated  only  as  we  were  by  a  dun- 
geon-wall. 


MY  TEN  YEARS'  IMPRISONMENT.  157 

Schiller  brought  us  tidings  of  him.  The  unfortunate 
young  Count,  he  said,  was  in  the  greatest  agonies,  yet  he 
retained  his  admirable  firmness  of  mind.  He  received  the 
spiritual  consolations  of  the  chaplain,  who  was  fortunately 
acquainted  with  the  French  language.  He  died  on  the  13th 
of  June,  1823.  A  few  hours  before  he  expired,  he  spoke 
of  his  aged  father,  eighty  years  of  age,  was  much 
affected,  and  shed  tears.  Then  resuming  his  serenity,  he 
said,  "  But  why  thus  lament  the  destiny  of  the  most 
fortunate  of  all  those  so  dear  to  me ;  for  he  is  on  the  eve 
of  rejoining  me  in  the  realms  of  eternal  peace?"  The 
last-  words  he  uttered,  were,  "  I  forgive  all  my  enemies ; 
I  do  it  from  my  heart ! "  His  eyes  were  closed  by  his 
friend,  Dr.  Fortini,  a  most  religious  and  amiable  man, 
who  had  been  intimate  with  him  from  his  childhood. 
Poor  Oroboni !  how  bitterly  we  felt  his  death  when  the 
first  sad  tidings  reached  us !  Ah !  we  heard  the  voices 
and  the  steps  of  those  who  came  to  remove  his  !k>dy ! 
We  watched  from  our  window  the  hearse,  which,  slow 
and  solemnly,  bore  him  to  that  cemetery  within  our 
view.  It  was  drawn  thither  by  two  of  the  common  con- 
victs, and  followed  by  four  of  the  guards.  We  kept  our 
eyes  fixed  upon  the  sorrowful  spectacle,  without  speaking 
a  word,  till  it  entered  the  churchyard.  It  passed  through, 
and  stopped  at  last  in  a  corner,  near  a  new-made  grave. 
The  ceremony  was  brief;  almost  immediately  the  hearse, 
the  convicts,  and  the  guards  were  observed  to  return. 
One  of  the  last  was  Kubitzky.  He  said  to  me,  "  I  have 
marked  the  exact  spot  where  he  is  buried,  in  order  that 
some  relation  or  friend  may  be  enabled  some  day  to  remove 
his  poor  bones,  and  lay  them  in  his  own  country.  It  was  a 
noble  thought,  and  surprised  me  in  a  man  so  wholly  unedu- 
cated ;  but  I  could  not  speak.  How  often  had  the  unhappy 
Count  gazed  from  his  window  upon  that  dreary  looking 
cemetery,  as  he  observed,  "  I  must  try  to  get  accustomed  to 


158  MY  TEN  YEARS'  IMPRISONMENT. 

the  idea  of  being  carried  thither ;  yet  I  confess  that  such  an 
idea  makes  me  shiver.  It  is  strange,  hut  I  cannot  help 
thinking  that  we  shall  not  rest  so  well  in  these  foreign 
parts  as  in  our  own  beloved  land."  He  would  then  laugh, 
and  exclaim,  "  What  childishness  is  this  !  when  a  garment 
is  worn  out,  and  done  with,  does  it  signify  where  we  throw 
it  aside  ?  "  At  other  times,  he  would  say,  "  I  am  continu- 
ally preparing  for  death,  but  I  should  die  more  willingly 
upon  one  condition — just  to  enter  my  father's  house  once 
more,  embrace  his  knees,  hear  his  voice  blessing  me,  and 
die  !  "  He  then  sighed  and  added,  "  But  if  this  cup,  my 
God,  cannot  pass  from  me,  may  thy  will  be  done."  Upon 
the  morning  of  his  death  he  also  said,  as  he  pressed  a  cruci- 
fix, which  Krai  brought  him,  to  his  lips  ;  "Thou,  Lord,  who 
wert  Divine,  hadst  also  a  horror  of  death,  and  didst  say, 
If  it  be  possible,  let  this  cup  pass  from  me,  oh,  pardon  if  I  too 
say  it ;  but  I  will  repeat  also  with  Thee,  Nevertheless,  not  as 
I  will,  but  as  thou  wiliest  it  !  " 


CHAPTER    LXXVII. 

AFTER  the  death  of  Oroboni,  I  was  again  taken  flL  I  ex- 
pected very  soon  to  rejoin  him,  and  I  ardently  desired  it. 
Still,  I  could  not  have  parted  with  Maroncelli  without 
regret.  Often,  while  seated  on  his  straw-bed,  he  read  or 
recited  poetry  to  withdraw  my  mind,  as  well  as  his  own, 
from  reflecting  upon  our  misfortunes,  I  gazed  on  him,  and 
thought  with  pain,  When  I  am  gone,  when  you  see  them 
bearing  me  hence,  when  you  gaze  at  the  cemetery,  you  will 
look  more  sorrowful  than  now.  I  would  then  offer  a  secret 
prayer  that  another  companion  might  be  given  him,  as 
capable  of  appreciating  all  his  worth. 

I  shall  not  mention  how  many  different  attacks  I  suffered, 
and  with  how  much  difficulty  I  recovered  from  them.  The 
assistance  I  received  from  my  friend  Maroncelli,  was  like 


MY   TEN  TEAKS'    IMPRISONMENT.  159 

that  of  an  attached  brother.  "When  it  became  too  great  an 
effort  for  me  to  speak,  he  was  silent ;  he  saw  the  exact 
moment  when  his  conversation  would  soothe  or  enliven  me, 
he  dwelt  upon  subjects  most  congenial  to  my  feelings,  and 
he  continued  or  varied  them  as  he  judged  most  agreeable  to 
me.  Never  did  I  meet  with  a  nobler  spirit ;  he  had  few 
equals,  none,  whom  I  knew,  superior  to  him.  Strictly  just, 
tolerant,  truly  religious,  with  a  remarkable  confidence  in 
human  virtue,  he  added  to  these  qualities  an  admirable  taste 
for  the  beautiful,  whether  in  'art  or  nature,  and  a  fertile 
imagination  teeming  with  poetry ;  in  short,  all  those  engag- 
ing dispositions  of  mind  and  heart  best  calculated  to  endear 
him  to  me. 

Still,  I  could  not  help  grieving  over  the  fate  of  Oroboni 
while,  at  the  same  time,  I  indulged  the  soothing  reflection 
that  he  was  freed  from  all  his  sufferings,  that  they  were 
rewarded  with  a  better  world,  and  that  in  the  midst  of  the 
enjoyments  he  had  won,  he  must  have  that  of  beholding  me 
with  a  friend  no  less  attached  to  me  than  he  had  been  him- 
self. I  felt  a  secret  assurance  that  he  was  no  longer  in  a 
place  of  expiation,  though  I  ceased  not  to  pray  for  him.  I 
often  saw  him  in  my  dreams,  and  he  seemed  to  pray  for  me ; 
I  tried  to  think  that  they  were  not  mere  dreams ;  that  they 
were  manifestations  of  his  blessed  spirit,  permitted  by  God 
for  my  consolation.  I  should  not  be  believed  were  I  to 
describe  the  excessive  vividness  of  such  dreams,  if  such  they 
were,  and  the  delicious  serenity  which  they  left  in  my  mind 
for  many  days  after.  These,  and  the  religious  sentiments 
entertained  by  Maroncelli,  with  his  tried  friendship,  greatly 
alleviated  my  afflictions.  The  sole  idea  which  tormented 
me  was  the  possibility  of  this  excellent  friend  also  being 
snatched  from  me  ;  his  health  having  been  much  broken,  so 
as  to  threaten  his  dissolution  ere  my  own  sufferings  drew  to 
a  close.  Every  time  he  was  taken  ill,  I  trembled ;  and  when 
he  felt  better,  it  was  A  day  of  rejoicing  for  me.  Strange, 


160  MY  TEN  YEARS'  IMPRISONMENT. 

that  there  should  be  a  fearful  sort  of-  pleasure,  anxious  yet 
intense,  in  these  alternations  of  hope  and  dread,  regarding 
the  existence  of  the  only  ohject  left  you  on  earth.  Our  lot 
was  one  of  the  most  painful ;  yet  to  esteem,  to  love  each 
other  as  we  did,  was  to  us  a  little  paradise,  the  one  green 
spot  in  the  desert  of  our  lives ;  it  was  all  we  had  left,  and 
we  bowed  our  heads  in  thankfulness  to  the  Giver  of  all  good, 
while  awaiting  the  hour  of  his  summons. 


CHAPTER    LXXVUL 

IT  was  now  my  favourite  wish  that  the  chaplain  who  had 
attended  me  in  my  first  illness,  might  be  allowed  to  visit  us 
as  our  confessor.  But  instead  of  complying  with  our  re- 
quest, the  governor  sent  us  an  Augustine  friar,  called 
Father  Battista,  who  was  to  confess  us  until  an  order  came 
from  Vienna,  either  to  confirm  the  choice,  or  to  nominate 
another  in  his  place. 

I  was  afraid  we  might  suffer  by  the  change,  but  was 
deceived.  Father  Battista  was  an  excellent  man,  highly 
educated,  of  polished  manners,  and  capable  of  reasoning 
admirably,  even  profoundly,  upon  the  duties  of  man.  We 
entreated  him  to  visit  us  frequently  ;  he  came  once  a  month, 
and  oftener  when  in  his  power  to  do  so  ;  he  always  brought 
us  some  book  or  other  with  the  governor's  permission,  and 
informed  us  from  the  abbot  that  the  entire  library  of  the 
convent  was  at  our  service.  This  was  a  great  event  for  us ; 
and  we  availed  ourselves  of  the  offer  during  several  months. 

After  confession,  he  was  accustomed  to  converse  with  us 
and  gave  evidence  of  an  upright  and  elevated  mind,  capable 
of  estimating  the  intrinsic  dignity  and  sanctity  of  the  human 
mind.  We  had  the  advantage  of  his  enlightened  views,  of 
his  affection,  and  his  friendship  for  us  during  the  space  of  a 
year.  At  first  I  confess  that  I  distrusted  him,  and  imagined 
that  we  should  soon  discover  him  putting  out  his  feelers  to 


MY   TEN   YEABS*    IMPRISONMENT.  161 

induce  us  to  make  imprudent  disclosures.  In  a  prisoner  of 
state  this  sort  of  diffidence  is  but  too  natural ;  but  how 
great  the  satisfaction  we  experience  when  it  disappears,  and 
when  we  acknowledge  in  the  interpreter  of  God  no  other 
zeal  than  that  inspired  by  the  cause  of  God  and  of 
humanity. 

He  had  a  most  efficacious  method  of  administering  conso- 
lation. For  instance,  I  accused  myself  of  flying  into  a  rage 
at  the  rigours  imposed  upon  me  by  the  prison  discipline. 
He  discoursed  upon  the  virtue  of  suffering  with  resignation, 
and  pardoning  our  enemies  ;  and  depicted  in  lively  colours 
the  miseries  of  life — in  ranks  and  conditions  opposite  to  my 
own.  He  had  seen  much  of  life,  both  in  cities  and  the 
country,  known  men  of  all  grades,  and  deeply  reflected  upon 
human  oppression  and  injustice.  He  painted  the  operation 
of  the  passions,  and  the  habits  of  various  social  classes.  He 
described  them  to  me  throughout  as  the  strong  and  the 
weak,  the  oppressors  and  the  oppressed :  and  the  necessity 
we  were  under,  either  of  hating  our  fellow-man  or  loving 
him  by  a  generous  effort  of  compassion. 

The  examples  he  gave  to  show  me  the  prevailing  character 
of  misfortune  in  the  mass  of  human  beings,  and  the  good 
which  was  to  be  hence  derived,  had  nothing  singular  in 
them  ;  in  fact  they  were  obvious  to  view  ;  but  he  recounted 
them  in  language  so  just  and  forcible,  that  I  ceuld  not  but 
admit  the  deductions  he  wished  to  draw  from  them. 

The  oftener  he  repeated  his  friendly  reproaches,  and  his 
noble  exhortations,  the  more  was  I  incited  to  the  love  ol 
virtue ;  I  no  longer  felt  capable  of  resentment— I  ceuld 
have  laid  down  my  life,  with  the  permission  of  God,  for  the 
least  of  my  fellow-creatures,  and  I  yet  blest  His  holy  name 
for  having  created  me — MAN  ! 

"Wretch  that  he  is  who  remains  ignorant  of  the  sublime 
duty  of  confession !  Still  more  wretched  who,  to  shun  the 
common  herd,  as  he  believes,  feels  himself  called  upon  to 


162  AIT  TEN  TEAKS'  IMPBISONMENT. 

regard  it  with  scorn !  Is  it  not  a  truth  that  even  when  we 
know  what  is  required  of  us  to  be  good,  that  self-knowledge 
is  a  dead  letter  to  us  ?  reading  and  reflection  are  insufficient 
to  impel  us  to  it ;  it  is  only  the  living  speech  of  a  man  gifted 
with  power  which  can  here  be  of  avail.  The  soul  is  shaken  to 
its  centre,  the  impressions  it  receives  are  more  profound  and 
lasting.  In  the  brothej:  who  speaks  to  you,  there  is  a  life, 
and  a  living  and  breathing  spirit — one  which  you  can  al- 
ways consult,  and  which  you  will  vainly  seek  for,  either  in 
books  or  in  your  own  thoughts. 


CHAPTER  LXXIX. 

IN  the  beginning  of  1824  the  superintendent,  who  had  his 
office  at  one  end  of  our  gallery,  removed  elsewhere,  and  the 
chambers,  along  with  others,  were  converted  into  additional 
prisons.  By  this,  alas,  we  were  given  to  understand  that 
other  prisoners  of  state  were  expected  from  Italy. 

They  arrived  in  fact  very  shortly — a  third  special  com- 
mission was  at  hand  — and  they  were  all  in  the  circle  of  my 
friends  or  my  acquaintance.  What  was  my  grief  when  I 
was  told  their  names !  Borsieri  was  one  of  my  oldest  friends. 
To  Confalonieri  I  had  been  attached  a  less  time  indeed, 
but  not  the  less  ardently.  Had  it  been  in  my  power,  by 
taking  upon  myself  the  carcere  durwsimo,  or  any  other 
imaginable  torment,  how  willingly  would  I  have  purchased 
their  liberation.  Not  only  would  I  have  laid  down  my  life 
for  them, — for  what  is  it  to  give  one's  life  P  I  would  have 
continued  to  suffer  for  them. 

It  was  then  I  wished  to  obtain  the  consolations  of  Father 
Battista ;  but  they  would  not  permit  him  to  come  near  me. 

New  orders  to  maintain  the  severest  discipline  were  re- 
ceived from  Vienna.  The  terrace  on  which  we  walked  was 
hedged  in  by  stockades,  and  in  such  a  way  that  no  one,  even 
with  the  use  of  a  telescope,  could  perceive  our  movements. 


MY  TEN  YEARS'  IMPRISONMENT.  163 

We  could  no  longer  catch  the  beautiful  prospect  of  the  sur- 
rounding hills,  and  part  of  the  city  of  Briinn  which  lay  be- 
low. Yet  this  was  not  enough.  To  reach  the  terrace,  we 
were  obliged,  as  before  stated,  to  traverse  the  courtyard, 
and  a  number  of  persons  could  perceive  us.  That  we  might 
be  concealed  from  every  human  eye,  we  were  prohibited 
from  crossing  it,  and  we  were  confined  in  our  walk  to  a 
small  passage  close  to  our  gallery,  with  a  north  aspect 
similar  to  that  of  our  dungeons. 

To  us  such  a  change  was  a  real  misfortune,  and  it  grieved 
us.  There  were  innumerable  little  advantages  and  refresh- 
ments to  our  worn  and  wasted  spirits  in  the  walk  of  which 
we  were  deprived.  The  sight  of  the  superintendent's  chil- 
dren ;  their  smiles  and  caresses ;  the  scene  where  I  had 
taken  leave  of  their  mother  ;  the  occasional  chit-chat  with 
the  old  smith,  who  had  his  forge  there ;  the  joyous  songs  of 
one  of  the  captains  accompanied  by  his  guitar  ;  and  last  not 
least,  the  innocent  badinage  of  a  young  Hungarian  fruiter- 
ess— the  corporal's  wife,  who  flirted  with  my  companions- 
were  among  what  we  had  lost.  She  had,  in  fact,  taken  a 
great  fancy  for  Maroncelli. 

Previous  to  his  becoming  my  companion,  he  had  made  a 
little  of  her  acquaintance  ;  but  was  so  sincere,  so  dignified, 
and  so  simple  in  his  intentions  as  to  be  quite  insensible  of 
the  impression  he  had  produced.  I  informed  him  of  it, 
and  he  would  not  believe  I  was  serious,  though  he  declared 
that  he  would  take  care  to  preserve  a  greater  distance. 
Unluckily  the  more  he  was  reserved,  the  more  did  th« 
lady's  fancy  for  him  seemed  to  increase. 

It  so  happened  that  her  window  was  scarcely  above  a 
yard  higher  than  the  level  of  the  terrace ;  and  in  an  instant 
she  was  at  our  side  with  the  apparent  intention  of  putting 
out  some  linen  to  dry,  or  to  perform  some  other  household 
offices  ;  but  in  fact  to  gaze  at  my  friend,  and,  if  possible, 
enter  into  conversation  with  him. 


164  MY  TEN  YEARS'  IMPRISONMENT. 

Our  poor  guards,  half  wearied  to  death  for  want  of  sleep, 
had,  meantime,  eagerly  caught  at  an  opportunity  of 
throwing  themselves  on  the  grass,  just  in  this  corner,  where 
they  were  no  longer  under  the  eye  of  their  superiors. 
They  fell  asleep ;  and  meanwhile  Maroncelli  was  not  a  little 
perplexed  what  to  do,  such  was  the  resolute  affection  borne 
him  by  the  fair  Hungarian.  I  was  no  less  puzzled  ;  for  an 
affair  of  the  kind,  which,  elsewhere,  might  have  supplied 
matter  for  some  merriment,  was  here  very  serious,  and 
might  lead  to  some  very  unpleasant  result.  The  unhappy 
cause  of  all  this  had  one  of  those  countenances  which  tell 
you  at  once  their  character — the  habit  of  being  virtuous, 
and  the  necessity  of  being  esteemed.  She  was  not  beauti- 
ful, but  had  a  remarkable  expression  of  elegance  in  her 
whole  manner  and  deportment ;  her  features,  though  not 
regular,  fascinated  when  she  smiled,  and  with  every  change 
of  sentiment. 

Were  it  my  purpose  to  dwell  upon  love  affairs,  I  should 
have  no  little  to  relate  respecting  this  virtuous  but  unfor- 
tunate woman — now  deceased.  Enough  that  I  have  al- 
luded to  one  of  the  few  adventures  which  marked  my  prison- 
hours.  

CHAPTER  LXXX. 

THE  increasing  rigour  of  our  prison  discipline  rendered  our 
lives  one  unvaried  scene.  The  whole  of  1824,  of  1825,  of 
1826,  of  1827,  presented  the  same  dull,  dark  aspect;  and 
how  we  lived  through  years  like  these  is  wonderful.  We 
were  forbidden  the  use  of  books.  The  prison  was  one 
immense  tomb,  though  without  the  peace  and  unconscious- 
ness of  death.  The  director  of  police  came  every  month  to 
institute  the  most  strict  and  minute  search,  assisted  by  a 
lieutenant  and  guards.  They  made  us  strip  to  the  skin, 
examined  the  seams  of  our  garments,  and  ripped  up  the 
straw  bundles  called  our  beds  in  pursuit  of — nothing.  It 


MY  TEN  YEARS'  IMPRISONMENT.  165 

wan  a  secret  affair,  intended  to  take  us  by  surprise,  and 
had  something  about  it  which  always  irritated  me  exceed- 
ingly,  and  left  me  in  a  violent  fever. 

The  preceding  years  had  appeared  to  me  very  unhappy, 
yet  I  now  remembered  them  with  regret.     The  hours  were 
fled  when  I  could  read  my  Bible,  and  Homer,  from  whom  I 
had  imbibed  such  a  passionate  admiration  of  his  glorious 
language.     Oh,  how  it  irked  me  to  be  unable  to  prosecute 
my  study  of  him !   And  there  were  Dante,  Petrarch,  Shake- 
speare, Byron,  Walter  Scott,  Schiller,  Goethe,  &c.— how 
many  friends,  how  many  innocent  and  true  delights  were 
withheld  from  me.     Among  these  I  included  a  number  of 
works,  also,  upon  Christian  knowledge ;  those  of  Bourda- 
loue  Pascal,  "The  Imitation  of  Christ,"  "The  Filotea,"  &c., 
book's  usually  read  with  narrow,  illiberal  views  by  those 
who   exult  in  every  little   defect  of   taste,  and  at  every 
common-place  thought  which  impels  the  reader  to  throw 
them  for  ever  aside;  but  which,  when  perused  m  a  fa 
spirit  free  from  scandalous  or  malignant  construction,  di 
cover  a  mine  of  deep  philosophy,  and  vigorous  nutriment 
both  for  the  intellect  and  the  keart.     A  few  of  certain 
religious  books,  indeed,  were  sent  us,  as  a  present,  by  t 
Emperor  but  with  an  absolute  prohibition  to  receive  works 
of  any  other  kind  adapted  for  literary  occupation 

This  imperial  gift  of  ascetic  productions  arrived  in  If 
by  a  Dalmatian  Confessor,  Father  Stefano  Paulowich,  after- 
wards Bishop  of  Cattaro,  who  was  purposely  sent  from 
Vienna  We  were  indebted  to  him  for  performing  mass, 
which  had  been  before  refused  us,  on  the  plea  that  they 
could  not  convey  us  into  the  church  and  keep  us  separatee 
into  two  and  two  as  the  imperial  law  prescribed.  To  avou 
such  infraction  we  now  ^ent  to  mass  in  three  groups  ;  one 
being  placed  upon  the  tribune  of  the  organ  another  under 
the  tribune,  so  as  not  to  be  visible,  and  the  third  m  a  small 
oratory,  from  which  was  a  view  into  the  church  through  a 


166  MY  TEN  YEARS'  IMPRISONMENT. 

grating.  On  this  occasion  Maroncelli  and  I  had  for  com- 
panions six  convicts,  who  had  received  sentence  hefore  we 
came,  but  no  two  were  allowed  to  speak  to  any  other  two 
in  the  group.  Two  of  them,  I  found,  had  heen  my  neigh- 
bours in  the  Piombi  at  Venice. 

We  were  conducted  by  the  guards  to  the  post  assigned  us, 
and  then  brought  back  after  mass  in  the  same  manner,  each 
couple  into  their  former  dungeon.  A  Capuchin  friar  came 
to  celebrate  mass ;  the  good  man  ended  every  rite  with  a 
"let  us  pray"  for  "liberation  from  chains,"  and  "to  set 
the  prisoner  free,"  in  a  voice  which  trembled  with  emotion. 

On  leaving  the  altar  he  cast  a  pitying  look  on  each  of 
the  three  groups,  and  bowed  his  head  sorrowfully  in  secret 
prayer.  

CHAPTER  LXXXT. 

IN  1 825  Schiller  was  pronounced  past  his  service  from  in- 
firmity and  old  age  ;  though  put  in  guard  over  some  other 
prisoners,  not  thought  to  require  equal  vigilance  and  care. 
It  was  a  trying  thing  to  part  from  him,  and  he  felt  it  as 
well  as  we.  Krai,  a  man  not  inferior  to  him  in  good  dis- 
position, was  at  first  his  successor.  But  he  too  was  re- 
moved, and  we  had  a  jailor  of  a  very  hursh  and  distant 
manner,  wholly  devoid  of  emotion,  though  not  intrinsically 
bad. 

I  felt  grieved ;  Schiller,  Krai,  and  Kubitzky,  but  in 
particular  the  two  former,  had  attended  us  in  our  extreme 
sufferings  with  the  affection  of  a  father  or  a  brother. 
Though  incapable  of  violating  their  trust,  they  knew  how 
to  do  their  duty  without  harshness  of  any  kind.  If  there 
were  something  hard  in  the  forms,  they  took  the  sting  out 
of  them  as  much  as  possible  by  various  ingenious  traits  and 
turns  of  a  benevolent  mind.  I  was  sometimes  angry  at 
them,  but  they  took  all  I  said  in  good  part.  They  wished 
us  to  feel  that  they  had  become  attached  to  us ;  and  they 


MY  TEN  YEARS'  IMPRISONMENT. 

rejoiced  when  we  expressed  as  much,  and  approved  of  any- 

thing they  did.  , 

From  the  time  Schiller  left  us,  he  was  frequently  ill  ;  and 
we  inquired  after  him  with  a  sort  of  filial  anxiety.  When 
he  sufficiently  recovered,  he  was  in  the  habit  of  coming  to 
walk  under  our  windows  ;  we  hailed  him,  and  he  would  look 
up  with  a  melancholy  smile,  at  the  same  time  addressing 
the  sentinels  in  a  voice  we  could  overhear  :  •'  Da  sind  meme 
Sohne  !  there  are  my  sons." 

Poor  old  man  !  how  sorry  I  was  to  see  him  almost  stagger- 
ing along,  with  the  weight  of  increasing  infirmities,  so  near 
us  and  without  being  enabled  to  offer  him  even  my  arm. 

Sometimes  he  would  sit  down  upon  the  grass,  and  rea< 
They  were  the  same  books  he  had  often  lent  me.     To  pie: 
me,  he  would  repeat  the  titles  to  the  sentinels,  or  recite 
some  extract  from  them,  and  then  look  up  at  me,  and  nod 
After  several  attacks  of  apoplexy,  he  ™.  «%****£ 
military  hospital,  where  in  a  brief  period  he  died.     He  le 
'   some  hundreds  of  florins,  the  fruit  of  long  *  savings  . 
he  had  already  lent,  indeed,  to  such  of   his  old  nnhtar> 
comrades  as  most  required  them;  and  when  he  found  1 
.  end  approaching,  he   called  them  all  to  his  bedside,  and 
said  :  '<  I  have  no  relations  left  ;  I  wish  each  of  you  to  keep 
what  I  have  lent  you,  for  my  sake.     I  only  ask  that  you 


e       trends  had  a  daughter  of  about  eighteen, 
and  who  was  Schiller's  god-daughter.     A  f  ew  hours  befor 
his  death,  the  good  old  man  sent  for  her      He  couW 
speak  distinctly,  but  he  took  a  silver  ring  from  his  finger 
d  nlaced  it  upon  hers.     He  then  fcssei  her,  and  shed 
tears  o^r  her.     The  poor  girl  sobbed  as  if  her  heart  would 
break?  for  she  was  tenderly  attached  to  him      He  took  a 
handkerchief,  and,  as  if  trying  to  .soothe  her  he  dried  her 
*M     Lastly,  he  took  hold  of  her  hands,  and  placed  them 
upon  his  eyes;  and  those  eyes  were  closed  for  ever. 


168  MY  TEN  TEARS'  IMPRISONMENT. 


CHAPTER  LXXXH. 

ALL  human  consolations  were  one  by  one  fast  deserting  us, 
and  our  sufferings  still  increased.  I  resigned  myself  to  the 
will  of  God,  but  my  spirit  groaned.  It  seemed  as  if  my 
mind,  instead  of  becoming  inured  to  evil,  grew  more  keenly 
susceptible  of  pain.  One  day  there  was  secretly  brought 
to  me  a  page  of  the  Augsburgh  Gazette,  in  which  I  found 
the  strangest  assertions  respecting  myself  on  occasion-  of 
mention  being  made  of  one  of  my  sisters  retiring  into  a 
nunnery.  It  stated  as  follows : — "  The  Signora  Maria 
Angiola  Pellico,  daughter,  &c.,  took  the  veil  (on  such  a 
day)  in  the  monastery  of  the  Visitazione  at  Turin,  &c. 
This  lady  is  sister  to  the  author  of  Francesca  da  Rimini, 
Silvio  Pellico,  who  was  recently  liberated  from  the  fortress 
of  Spielberg,  being  pardoned  by  his  Majesty,  the  emperor 
— a  trait  of  clemency  worthy  of  so  magnanimous  a  sovereign, 
and  a  subject  of  gratulation  to  the  whole  of  Italy,  inas- 
much as,"  &c.,  &c. 

And  here  followed  some  eulogiums  which  I  omit.  I 
could  not  conceive  for  what  reason  the  hoax  relating  to  the 
gracious  pardon  had  been  invented.  It  seemed  hardly  pro- 
bable it  could  be  a  mere  freak  of  the  editor's  ;  and  was  it 
then  intended  as  some  stroke  of  oblique  German  policy  ? 
Who  knows !  However  this  may  be,  the  names  of  Maria 
Angiola  were  precisely  those  of  my  younger  sister,  and 
doubtless  they  must  have  been  copied  from  the  Turin 
Gazette  into  other  papers.  Had  that  excellent  girl,  then, 
really  become  a  nun  ?  Had  she  taken  this  step  in  conse- 
quence of  the  loss  of  her  parents  ?  Poor  Maria !  she  would 
not  permit  me  alone  to  suffer  the  deprivations  of  a  prison ; 
she  too  would  seclude  herself  from  the  world.  May  God 
grant  her  patience  and  self-denial,  far  beyond  what  I  have 
evinced ;  for  often  I  know  will  that  angel,  in  her  solitary 
cell,  turn  her  thoughts  and  her  prayers  towards  me.  Alas, 


MY  TEN  YEARS'  IMPRISONMENT. 


169 


it  may  be,  she  will  impose  on  herself  some  rigid  penance, 
in  the  hope  that  God  may  alleviate  the  sufferings  of  her 
brother!  Those  reflections  agitated  me  greatly,  and  my 
heart  bled.  Most  likely  my  own  misfortunes  had  helped  to 
shorten  the  days  both  of  my  father  and  my  mother  ;  for 
were  they  living,  it  would  be  hardly  possible  that  my 
Marietta  would  have  deserted  our  parental  roof.  A 
length  the  idea  oppressed  me  with  the  weight  of  absolute 

dainty   and  I  fell  into  a  wretched  and  agonised  state 
mind.     Maroncelli  was  no  less  affected  than  myself.     The 
next  day  he  composed  a  beautiful  elegy  upon  «  the  sister  of 
the  prisoner."     When  he  had  completed  it,  he  read  it  1 
me  Tow  grateful  was  I  for  such  a  proof  of  his  affection 
for  me  !     Among  the  infinite  number  of  poems  which  had 
been  written  upon  similar  subjects,  not  one  probably,  he 
been  composed  in  prison,  for  the  brother  of  the  nun  and 
by  his  companion  in  captivity  and  chains      What  afield   or 
plthetic  and  religious  ideas  was  here,  and  Maroncelb  ^filled 
his  Ivre  with  wild  and  pathetic  tones,  which  drew  del 


wans        sweetened  all  my  woes     Seldom 
from  that  day  did  I  forget  to  turn  my  ^ougMs  long  and 


and  weary  captive.          --- 

CHAPTER  LXXXIII. 

THE  reader  must  not  suppose  from  the  circumstance  of  my 
2fng  tt  Gazette,  that  I  was  in  the  habit  of  hearing 
ntis  or  could  obtain  any.  No!  though  all  the  agent* 
Tp  oyi  around  me  were  kind,  the  system  was  such  as  to 


170  MY  TEN  YEARS'  IMPRISONMENT. 

inspire  the  utmost  terror.  If  there  occurred  the  least 
clandestine  proceeding,  it  was  only  when  the  danger  was 
not  felt — when  not  the  least  risk  appeared.  The  extreme 
rareness  of  any  such  occurrences  may  he  gathered  from 
what  has  heen  stated  respecting  the  ordinary  and  extra- 
ordinary searches  which  took  place,  morning,  noon,  and 
night,  through  every  corner  of  our  dungeons. 

I  had  never  a  single  opportunity  of  receiving  any  notice, 
however  slight,  regarding  my  family,  even  hy  secret 
means,  beyond  the  allusions  in  the  Gazette  to  my  sister 
and  myself.  The  fears  I  entertained  lest  my  dear  parents 
no  longer  survived  were  greatly  augmented,  soon  after,  by 
the  manner  in  which  the  police  director  came  to  inform 
me  that  my  relatives  were  well. 

"  His  Majesty  the  Emperor,"  he  said,  "  commands  me 
to  communicate  to  you  good  tidings  of  your  relations  at 
Turin." 

I  could  not  express  my  pleasure  and  my  surprise  at  this 
unexpected  circumstance ;  but  I  soon  put  a  variety  of 
questions  to  him  as  to  their  health  :  "  Left  you  my  parents, 
brothers,  and  sisters,  at  Turin  ?  are  they  alive  ?  if  you 
have  any  letter  from  them  pray  let  me  have  it." 

"  I  can  show  you  nothing.  You  must  be  satisfied.  It  is 
a  mark  of  the  Emperor's  clemency  to  let  you  know  even  so 
much.  The  same  favour  is  not  shown  to  every  one." 

"  I  grant  it  is  a  proof  of  the  Emperor's  kindness  ;  but  you 
will  allow  it  to  be  impossible  for  me  to  derive  the  least 
consolation  from  information  like  this.  Which  of  my 
relations  are  well  ?  have  I  lost  no  one  P  " 

"I  am  sorry,  sir,  that  I  cannot  state  more  than  I  have 
been  directed."  And  he  retired. 

It  must  assuredly  have  been  intended  to  console  me  by 
this  indefinite  allusion  to  my  family.  I  felt  persuaded  that 
the  Emperor  had  yielded  to  the  earnest  petition  of  some  of 
my  relatives  to  permit  me  to  hear  tidings  of  them,  and 


MY  TEN  TEAKS'  IMPRISONMENT.  171 

that  I  was  permitted  to  receive  no  letter  in  order  to  remain 
in  the  dark  as  to  which  of  my  dear  family  were  now  no 
more.  I  was  the  more  confirmed  in  this  supposition  from 
the  fact  of  receiving  a  similar  communication  a  few 
months  subsequently ;  but  there  was  no  letter,  no  further 
news. 

It  was  soon  perceived  that  so  far  from  having  be"en  pro- 
ductive of  satisfaction  to  me,  such  meagre  tidings  had 
thrown  me  into  still  deeper  affliction,  and  I  heard  no  more 
of  ,my  beloved  family.  The  continual  suspense,  the  dis- 
tracting idea  that  my  parents  were  dead,  that  my  brothers 
also  might  be  no  more,  that  my  sister  Giuseppina  was  gone, 
and  that  Marietta  was  the  sole  survivor,  and  that  in  the 
agony  of  her  sorrow  she  had  thrown  herself  into  a  convent, 
there  to  close  her  unhappy  days,  still  haunted  my  imagina- 
tion, and  completely  alienated  me  from  life. 

Not  unfrequently  I  had  fresh  attacks  of  the  terrible  dis- 
orders under  which  I  had  before  suffered,  with  those  of  a 
etill  more  painful  kind,  such  as  violent  spasms  of  the 
stomach,  exactly  like  cholera  morbus,  from  the  effects  of 
which  I  hourly  expected  to  die.  Yes !  and  I  fervently 
hoped  and  prayed  that  all  might  soon  be  over. 

At  the  same  time,  nevertheless,  whenever  I  cast  a  pitying 
glance  at  my  no  less  weak  and  unfortunate  companion — 
such  is  the  strange  contradiction  of  our  nature — I  felt  my 
heart  inly  bleed  at  the  idea  of  leaving  him,  a  solitary 
prisoner,  in  such  an  abode  ;  and  again  I  wished  to  live. 


CHAPTER  LXXXIV. 

THHICE,  during  my  incarceration  at  Spielberg,  there 
arrived  persons  of  high  rank  to  inspect  the  dungeons,  and 
ascertain  that  there  was  no  abuse  of  discipline.  The  first 
visitor  was  the  Baron  Von  Munch,  who,  struck  with  com- 
passion on  seeing  us  so  sadly  deprived  of  light  and  air, 


172  MY  TEN  YEARS'  IMPRISONMENT. 

declared  that  he  would  petition  in  our  favour,  to  have  a 
lantern  placed  over  the  outside  of  the  pane  in  our  dungeon 
doors,  through  which  the  sentinels  could  at  any  moment 
perceive  us.  His  visit  took  place  in  1825,  and  a  year 
afterwards  his  humane  suggestion  was  put  in  force.  By 
this  sepulchral  light  we  could  just  catch  a  view  of  the 
walls,  and  prevent  oui-  knocking  our  heads  in  trying  to 
walk.  The  second  visit  was  that  of  the  Baron  Von  Vogel. 
He  found  me  in  a  lamentable  state  of  health ;  and  learning 
that  the  physician  had  declared  that  coffee  would  be  very 
good  for  me,  and  that  I  could  not  obtain  it,  as  being  too 
great  a  luxury,  he  interested  himself  for  me,  and  my  old, 
delightful  beverage,  was  ordered  to  be  brought  me.  The 
third  visit  was  from  a  lord  of  the  court,  with  whose  name 
I  am  not  acquainted,  between  fifty  and  sixty  years  of  age,, 
and  who,  by  his  manners  as  well  as  his  words,  testified  the 
Bincerest  compassion  for  us ;  at  the  same  time  lamenting 
that  he  could  do  nothing  for  us.  Still,  the  expression  of 
his  sympathy — for  he  was  really  affected — was  something, 
and  we  were  grateful  for  it. 

How  strange,  how  irresistible,  is  the  desire  of  the 
solitary  prisoner  to  behold  some  one  of  his  own  species!  It 
amounts  almost  to  a  sort  of  instinct,  as  if  in  order  to  avoid 
insanity,  and  its  usual  consequence,  the  tendency  to  self- 
destruction.  The  Christian  religion,  so  abounding  in 
"views  of  humanity,  forgets  not  to  enumerate  amongst  its 
works  of  mercy  the  visiting  of  the  prisoner.  The  mere 
aspect  of  man,  his  look  of  commiseration,  and  his  willing- 
ness, as  it  were,  to  share  with  you,  and  bear  a  part  of 
your  heavy  burden,  even  when  you  know  he  cannot 
relieve  you,  has  something  that  sweetens  your  bitter  cup. 

Perfect  solitude  is  doubtless  of  advantage  to  some  minds ; 
but  far  more  so  if  not  carried  to  an  extreme,  and  relieved 
by  some  little  intercourse  with  society.  Such  at  least  is  my 
constitution.  If  I  do  not  behold  my  fellow-men,  my  affec- 


MY  TEN  YEARS'  IMPRISONMENT.  173 

tions  beeome  restricted  to  too  confined  a  circle,  and  I  begin 
to  dislike  all  others  ;  while,  if  I  continue  in  communication 
with  an  ordinary  number,  I  learn  to  regard  the  whole  of 
mankind  with  affection. 

Innumerable  times,  I  am  sorry  to  confess,  I  have  been  so 
exclusively  occupied  with  a  few,  and  so  averse  to  the  many, 
as  to  be  almost  terrified  at  the  feelings  I  experienced.  I 
would  then  approach  the  window,  desirous  of  catching  some 
new  features,  and  thought  myself  happy  when  the 
sentinel  passed  not  too  closely  to  the  wall,  if  I  got  a  single 
glance  of  him,  or  if  he  lifted  up  his  head  upon  hearing  me 
cough — more  especially  if  he  had  a  good-natured  counten- 
ance ;  when  he  showed  the  least  feeling  of  pity,  I  felt  a 
singular  emotion  of  pleasure,  as  if  that  unknown  soldier  had 
been  one  of  my  intimate  friends. 

If,  the  next  time,  he  passed  by  in  a  manner  that  pre- 
vented my  seeing  him,  or  took  no  notice  of  me,  I  felt  as 
much  mortified  as  some  poor  lover,  when  he  finds  that  the 
beloved  object  wholly  neglects  him. 


CHAPTER  LXXXV. 

IN  the  adjoining  prison,  once  occupied  by  Oroboni,  D. 
Marco  Fortini  and  Antonio  Villa  were  now  confined.  The 
latter,  once  as  strong  as  Hercules,  was  nearly  famished  the 
first  year,  and  when  a  better  allowance  was  granted  he  had 
wholly  lost  the  power  of  digestion.  He  lingered  a  long 
time,  and  when  reduced  almost  to  the  last  extremity,  he 
was  removed  into  a  somewhat  more  airy  prison.  The 
pestilential  atmosphere  of  these  narrow  receptacles,  so  much 
fesembling  real  tombs,  was  doubtless  very  injurious  to 
pthers  as  well  as  to  him.  But  the  remedy  sought  for  was 
.too  late  or  insufficient  to  remove  the  cause  of  his  sufferings, 
He  had  scarcely  been  a  month  in  this  spacious  prison, 


174  MY  TEN  YEARS'  IMPRISONMENT. 

•when,  in  consequence  of  bursting  several  blood-vt-sselfl,  and 
his  previously  broken  health,  he  died. 

Ho  was  attended  by  his  fellow-prisoner,  D.  Fortini,  and 
by  the  Abate  Paulowich,  who  hastened  'from  Vienna  upon 
hearing  that  he  was  dying.  Although  I  had  not  been  on 
the  same  intimate  terms  with  him  as  with  Count  Oroboni, 
his  death  a  good  deal  affected  me.  He  had  parents  and 
a  wife,  all  most  tenderly  attached  to  him.  He,  indeed,  was 
more  to  be  envied  than  regretted ;  but,  alas,  for  the  un- 
happy survivors  to  whom  he  was  everything !  He  had, 
moreover,  been  my  neighbour  when  under  the  Piombi. 
Tremerello  had  brought  me  several  of  his  poetical  pieces, 
and  had  conveyed  to  him  some  lines  from  me  in  return. 
There  was  sometimes  a  depth  of  sentiment  and  pathos  in  his 
poems  which  interested  me.  I  seemed  to  become  still  more 
attached  to  him  after  he  was  gone ;  learning,  as  I  did 
from  the  guards,  how  dreadfully  he  had  suffered.  It  was 
with  difficulty,  though  truly  religious,  that  he  could 
resign  himself  to  die.  He  experienced  to  the  utmost  the 
horror  of  that  final  step,  while  he  blessed  the  name  of  the 
Lord,  and  called  upon  His  name  with  tears  streaming  from 
his  eyes.  "  Alas,"  he  said,  "  I  cannot  conform  my  will 
unto  thine,  yet  how  willingly  would  I  do  it ;  do  thou  work 
this  happy  change  in  me!"  He  did  not  possess  the  same 
courage  as  Oroboni,  but  followed  his  example  in  forgiving 
all  his  enemies. 

At  the  close  of  the  year  (1826)  we  one  evening  heard  a 
suppressed  noise  in  the  gallery,  as  if  persons  were  stealing 
along.  Our  hearing  had  become  amazingly  acute  in  dis- 
tinguishing different  kinds  of  noises.  A  door  was  opened ; 
and  we  knew  it  to  be  that  of  the  advocate  Solera.  Another  I 
it  was  that  of  Fortini !  There  followed  a  whispering,  but 
we  could  tell  the  voice  of  the  police  director,  suppressed  as 
it  was.  What  could  it  be  ?  a  search  at  so  late  an  hour  !  and 
for  what  reason  ? 


MY  TEN  YEARS'  IMPRISONMENT.  175 

In  a  brief  space,  we  heard  steps  again  in  the  gallery ; 
and  ah!  more  plainly  we  recognised  the  voice  of  our 
excellent  Fortini :  "Unfortunate  as  I  am!  excuse  it?  go 
out !  I  have  forgotten  a  volume  of  my  breviary  !  "  And 
we  then  heard  him  run  back  to  fetch  the  book  mentioned, 
and  rejoin  the  police.  The  door  of  the  staircase  opened, 
and  we  h'eard  them  go  down.  In  the  midst  of  our  alarm 
we  learnt  that  our  two  good  friends  had  just  received  a 
pardon;  and  although  we  regretted  we  could  not  follow 
them,  we  rejoiced  in  their  unexpected  good  fortune. 


CHAPTER  LXXXVI. 

THE  liberation  of  our  two  companions  brought  no  alteration 
in  the  discipline  observed  towards  us.  Why,  we  asked 
ourselves,  were  they  set  at  liberty,  condemned  as  they  had 
been,  like  us,  the  one  to  twenty,  the  other  to  fifteen  years' 
imprisonment,  while  no  sort  of  favour  was  shown  to  the 
rest  ? 

Were  the  suspicions  against  those  who  were  still  con- 
signed to  captivity  more  strong,  or  did  the  disposition  to 
pardon  the  whole,  at  brief  intervals  of  time,  and  two 
together,  really  exist  ?  We  continued  in  suspense  for  some 
time.  Upwards  of  three  months  elapsed,  and  we  heard  of 
no  fresh  instances  of  pardon.  Towards  the  end  of  1827,  we 
considered  that  December  might  be  fixed  on  as  the  anniver- 
sary of  some  new  liberations;  but  the  month  expired,  and 
nothing  of  the  kind  occurred. 

Still  we  indulged  the  expectation  until  the  summer  of 
1828,  when  I  had  gone  through  seven  years  and  a  half  of 
my  punishment — equivalent,  according  to  the  Emperor's 
declaration,  to  the  fifteen,  if  the  infliction  of  it  were  to  be 
dated  from  the  term  of  my  arrest.  If,  on  the  other  hand, 
it  were  to  be  calculated,  not  from  the  period  of  my  trial, 
as  was  most  probable,  but  from  that  of  the  publication  of 


176  MY  TEN  TEARS'  IMPRISONMENT. 

my  sentence,  the  seven  years  and  a  half  would  only  be  com- 
pleted in  1829. 

Yet  all  these  periods  passed  over,  and  there  was  no 
appearance  of  a  remittance  of  punishment.  Meantime, 
even  before  the  liberation  of  Solera  and  Fortini,  Maroncelli 
was  ill  with  a  bad  tumour  upon  his  knee.  At  first  the  pain 
was  not  great,  and  he  only  limped  as  he  walked.  It  then 
grew  very  irksome  to  him  to  bear  his  irons,  and  he  rarely 
went  out  to  walk.  One  autumnal  morning  he  was  desirous 
of  breathing  the  fresh  air ;  there  was  a  fall  of  snow,  and 
unfortunately  in  walking  his  leg  failed  him,  and  he  came  to 
the  ground.  This  accident  was  followed  by  acute  pain  in 
his  knee.  He  was  carried  to  his  bed ;  for  he  was  no  longer 
able  to  remain  in  an  upright  position.  When  the  physician 
came,  he  ordered  his  irons  to  be  taken  off ;  but  the  swelling 
increased  to  an  enormous  size,  and  became  more  painful 
every  day.  Such  at  length  were  the  sufferings  of  my 
unhappy  friend,  that  he  could  obtain  no  rest  either  in  bed 
or  out  of  it.  When  compelled  to  move  about,  to  rise  or  to 
lie  down,  it  was  necessary  to  take  hold  of  the  bad  leg  and 
carry  it  as  he  went  with  the  utmost  care ;  and  the  most 
trifling  motion  brought  on  the  most  severe  pangs.  Leaches, 
baths,  caustics,  and  fomentations  of  different  kinds,  were  all 
found  ineffectual,  and  seemed  only  to  aggravate  his 
torments.  After  the  use  of  caustics,  suppuration  followed ; 
the  tumour  broke  out  into  wounds,  but  even  these  failed  to 
bring  relief  to  the  suffering  patient. 

Maroncelli  was  thus  far  more  unfortunate  than  myself ; 
although  my  sympathy  for  him  caused  me  real  pain  and 
suffering,  I  was  glad,  however,  to  be  near  him,  to  attend  to 
all  his  wants,  and  to  perform  all  the  duties  of  a  brother  and 
a  friend.  It  soon  became  evident  thut  his  leg  would  never 
heal :  he  considered  his  death  as  near  at  hand,  and  yet  he 
lost  nothing  of  his  admirable  calmness  or  his  courage.  The 
sight  of  his  sufferings  at  last  was  almost  more  than  I  could  bear 


MY  TEN  YEARS'  IMPRISONMENT.  177 


CHAPTER  LXXXVII.. 

in  this  deplorable  condition,  he  continued  to  compose 
verses,  he  sang,  and  he  conversed ;  and  all  this  he  did  to 
encourage  me,  hy  disguising  from  me  a  part  of  what  he 
suffered.  He  lost  his  powers  of  digestion,  he  could  not 
sleep,  was  reduced  to  a  skeleton,  and  very  frequently 
swooned  away.  Yet  the  moment  he  was  restored  he  rallied 
his  spirits,  and,  smiling,  bade  me  be  not  afraid.  It  is  inde- 
scribable what  he  suffered  during  many  months.  At  length 
a  consultation  was  to  be  held ;  the  head  physician  was 
called  in,  approved  of  all  his  colleague  had  done,  and, 
without  expressing  a  decisive  opinion,  took  his  leave.  A 
few  minutes  after,  the  superintendent  entered,  and  address- 
ing Maroncelli, 

"  The  head  physician  did  not  venture  to  express  his  real 
opinion  in  your  presence ;  he  feared  you  would  not  have 
fortitude  to  bear  so  terrible  an  announcement.  I  have 
assured  him,  however,  that  you  are  possessed  of  courage." 

"I  hope,"  replied  Maroncelli,  "  that  I  have  given  some 
proof  of  it  in  bearing  this  dreadful  torture  without  howling 
out.  Is  there  anything  he  would  propose  ?  " 

"  Yes,  sir,  the  amputation  of  the  limb :  only  perceiving 
how  much  your  constitution  is  broken  down,  he  hesitates  to 
advise  you.  Weak  as  you  are,  could  you  sxipport  the  opera- 
tion ?  will  you  run  the  risk " 

"  Of  dying  ?  and  shall  I  not  equally  die  if  I  go  on,  with- 
out ending  this  diabolical  torture  ?  " 

"We  will  send  off  an  account,  then,  direct  to  Vienna, 
soliciting  permission,  and  the  moment  it  comes  you  shall 
liave  your  leg  cut  off." 

"  What !  does  it  require  a  permit  for  this  ?  " 

"  Assuredly,  sir,"  was  the  reply. 

In  about  a  week  a  courier  arrived  from  Vienna  with  the 
expected  news. 


178  MY  TEN  YEARS'  IMPRISONMENT. 

My  sick  friend  was  carried  from  his  dungeon  into  a 
larger  room,  for  permission  to  have  his  leg  cut  off  had  just 
arrived.  He  begged  me  to  follow  him  :  "  I  may  die  under 
the  knife,  and  I  should  wish,  in  that  case,  to  expire  in  your 
arms."  I  promised,  and  was  permitted  to  accompany  him. 
The  sacrament  was  first  administered  to  the  unhappy 
prisoner,  and  we  then  quietly  awaited  the  arrival  of  the 
surgeons.  Maroncelli  filled  up  the  interval  by  singing  a 
hymn.  At  length  they  came ;  one  was  an  able  surgeon,  to 
superintend  the  operation,  from  Vienna ;  but  it  was  the 
privilege  of  our  ordinary  prison  apothecary,  and  he  would 
not  yield  to  the  man  of  science,  who  must  be  contented  to 
look  on.  The  patient  was  placed  on  the  side  of  a  couch, 
with  his  leg  down,  while  I  supported  him  in  my  arms.  It 
was  to  be  cut  above  the  knee ;  first,  an  incision  was  made, 
the  depth  of  an  inch — then  through  the  muscles — and  the 
blood  flowed  in  torrents :  the  arteries  were  next  taken  up 
with  ligatures,  one  by  one.  Next  came  the  saw.  This 
lasted  some  time,  but  Maroncelli  never  uttered  a  cry.  When 
he  saw  them  carrying  his  leg  away,  he  cast  on  it  one 
melancholy  look,  then  turning  towards  the  surgeon,  he  said, 
"  You  have  freed  me  from  an  enemy,  and  I  have  no  money 
to  give  you."  He  saw  a  rose,  in  a  glass,  placed  in  a 
window :  "  May  I  beg  of  you  to  bring  me  hither  that 
flower  ?  "  I  brought  it  to  him  ;  and  he  then  offered  it  to 
the  surgeon  with  an  indescribable  air  of  good-nature  :  "  See, 
I  have  nothing  else  to  give  you  in  token  of  my  gratitude." 
He  took  it  as  it  was  meant,  and  even  wiped  away  a 
tear. 


CHAPTER  LXXXVIII. 

THE  surgeons  had  supposed  that  the  hospital  of  Spielberg- 
would  provide  all  that  was  requisite  except  the  instruments,, 
which  they  brought  with  them.  But  after  the  amputation, 


MY  TEN  YEARS'  IMPRISONMENT.  179 

it  was  found  that  a  number  of  things  were  wanting ;  such 
as  linen,  ice,  bandages,  &c.  My  poor  friend  was  thus  com- 
pelled to  wait  two  hours  before  these  articles  were  brought 
from  the  city.  At  length  he  was  laid  upon  his  bed,  and  the 
ice  applied  to  the  trunk  of  the  bleeding  thigh.  Next  day 
it  was  dressed;  but  the  patient  was  allowed  to  take  no 
nourishment  beyond  a  little  broth,  with  an  egg.  When  the 
risk  of  fever  was  over,  he  was  permitted  the  use  of  restora- 
tives; and  an  order  from  the  Emperor  directed  that  he 
should  be  supplied  from  the  table  of  the  superintendent  till 
he  was  better. 

The  cure  was  completed  in  about  forty  days,  after  which 
we  were  conducted  into  our  dungeon.  This  had  been  en- 
larged for  us ;  that  is,  an  opening  was  made  in  the  wall  so 
as  to  unite  our  old  den  to  that  once  occupied  by  Oroboni, 
and  subsequently  by  Villa.  I  placed  my  bed  exactly  in  the 
same  spot  where  Oroboni  had  died,  and  derived  a  mournful 
pleasure  from  thus  apprpaching  my  friend,  as  it  were,  as 
nearly  as  possible.  It  appeared  as  if  his  spirit  still  hovered 
round  me,  and  consoled  me  with  manifestations  of  more 
than  earthly  love. 

The  horrible  sight  of  Maroncelli's  sufferings,  both  before 
and  subsequently  to  the  amputation  of  his  leg,  had  done 
much  to  strengthen  my  mind.  During  the  whole  period, 
my  health  had  enabled  me  to  attend  'upon  him,  and  I  was 
grateful  to  God  ;  but  from  the  moment  my  friend  assumed 
hifl  crutches,  and  could  supply  his  own  wants,  I  began 
daily  to  decline.  I  suffered  extremely  from  glandular 
swellings,  and  those  were  followed  by  pains  of  the  chest, 
more  oppressive  than  I  had  before  experienced,  attended 
•with  dizziness  and  spasmodic  dysentery.  "  It  is  my  turn 
now,"  thought  I ;  "  shall  I  show  less  patience  than  my  com- 
panion ?  " 

Every  condition  of  life  has  its  duties ;  and  those  of  the 
sick  consist  of  patience,  courage,  and  continual  efforts  to 


180  MY   TEN  TEAKS'   IMPRISONMENT. 

appear  not  unamiable  to  the  persons  who  surround  them. 
Maroncelli,  on  his  crutches,  no  longer  possessed  the  same 
activity,  and  was  fearful  of  not  doing  everything  for  me  uf 
which  I  stood  in  need.  It  was  in  fact  the  case,  but  I  did  all 
to  prevent  his  being  made  sensible  of  it.  Even  when  he  had 
recovered  his  strength  he  laboured  under  many  incon 
veniences.  He  complained,  like  most  others  after  a  similar 
operation,  of  acute  pains  in  the  nerves,  and  imagined  that 
"the  part  removed  was  still  with  him.  Sometimes  it  was  the 
toe,  sometimes  the  leg,  and  at  others  the  knee  of  the  ampu- 
tated limb  which  caused  him  to  cry  out.  The  bone,  more- 
over, had  been  badly  sawed,  and  pushed  through  the  newly- 
formed  flesh,  producing  frequent  wounds.  It  required  more 
than  a  year  to  bring  the  stump  to  a  good  state,  when  at 
length  it  hardened  and  broke  out  no  more. 


CHAPTER  I^IXXIX. 

evils,  however,  soon    assailed    my  unhappy  friend. 
'One  of  the  arteries,  beginning  at  the  joints  of  the  hand,  be- 
jgan  to  pain  him,  extending  to  other  parts  of  his  body ;  and 
Tthen  turned  into  a  scorbutic  sore.  His  whole  person  became 
•-covered  with  livid  spots,  presenting  a  frightful  spectacle.    I 
•tried  to  reconcile  myself  to  it,  by  considering  that  since  it 
.appeared  we  were  to  die  heie,  it  was  better  that  one  of  us 
should  be  seized  with  the  scurvy  ;  it  is  a  contagious  disease* 
;and  must  carry  us  off  either  together,  or  at  a  short  interval 
irom  each  other.       "We  both  prepared  ourselves  for  death, 
and  were  perfectly  tranquil.      Nine  years'  imprisonment, 
and  the  grievous  sufferings  we  had  undergone,  had  at  length 
familiarised  us  to  the  idea  of  the  dissolution  of  two  bodies 
BO  totally  broken  and  in  need  of  peace.     It  was  time  the 
scene  should  close,  and  we  confided  in  the  goodness  of  God, 
that  we  should  be  reunited  in  a  place  where  the  passions  of 
men  should  cease,  and  where,  we  prayed,  in  spirit  and  in 


MY  TEN  TEAKS'  IMPRISONMENT.  181 

truth,  that  those  who  DID  NOT  LOVE  us  might  meet  us  in 
peace,  in  a  kingdom  where  only  one  Master,  the  supreme 
King  of  kings,  reigned  for  evermore. 

This  malignant  distemper  had  destroyed  numhers  of  pri- 
soners during  the  preceding  years.  The  governor,  upon 
learning  that  Maroncelli  had  been  attacked  by  it,  agreed 
with  the  physician,  that  the  sole  hope  of  remedy  was  in  the 
fresh  air.  They  were  afraid  of  its  spreading ;  and  Maron- 
celli was  ordered  to  be  as  little  as  possible  within  his  dun- 
geon. Being  his  companion,  and  also  unwell,  I  was  permitted 
the  same  privilege.  We  were  permitted  to  be  in  the  open 
air  the  whole  time  the  other  prisoners  were  absent  from  the 
walk,  during  two  hours  early  in  the  morning,  during  the 
dinner,  if  we  preferred  it,  and  three  hours  in  the  evening^ 
even  after  sunset. 

There  was  one  other  unhappy  patient,  about  seventy  years 
of  age,  and  in  extremely  bad  health,  who  was  permitted  to 
bear  us  company.  His  name  was  Constantino  Munari ;  he 
was  of  an  amiable  disposition,  greatly  attached  to  literature 
and  philosophy,  and  agreeable  in  conversation. 

Calculating  my  imprisonment,  not  from  my  arrest,  but 
from  the  period  of  receiving  my  sentence,  I  had  been  seven 
years  and  a  half  (in  the  year  1829),  according  to  the  im- 
perial decree,  in  different  dungeons ;  and  about  nine  from 
the  day  of  my  arrest.  But  this  term,  like  the  other,  passed 
over,  and  there  was  no  sign  of  remitting  my  punishment. 

Up  to  the  half  of  the  whole  term,  my  friend  Maroncelli, 
Munari,  and  I  had  indulged  the  idea  of  a  possibility  of  see- 
ing once  more  our  native  land  and  our  relations ;  and  we 
frequently  conversed  with  the  warmest  hopes  and  feelings 
upon  the  subject.  August,  September,  and  the  whole*  of 
that  year  elapsed,  and  then  we  began  to  despair ;  nothing 
remained  to  relieve  our  destiny  but  our  unaltered  attach- 
ment for  each  other,  and  the  support  of  religion,  to  enable 
us  to  close  our  latter  prison  hours  with  becoming  dignity 


182  MY  TEN   TEAKS'   IMPBISONMENT. 

and  resignation.  It  was  then  we  felt  the  full  value  of  friend- 
ship and  religion,  which  threw  a  charm  even  over  the  dark- 
ness of  our  lot.  Human  hopes  and  promises  had  failed  us ; 
but  God  never  forsakes  the  mourners  and  the  captives  who 
truly  love  and  fear  Him.__ 

CHAPTER  XC. 

AFTER  the  death  of  Villa,  the  Abate  Wrba  was  appointed 
our  confessor,  on  occasion  of  the  Abate  Paulowich  receiving 
a  bishopric.  He  was  a  Moravian,  professor  of  the  gospel  at 
Briinn,  and  an  able  pupil  of  the  Sublime  .Institute  of 
Vienna.  This  was  founded  by  the  celebrated  Frinl,  then 
chaplain  to  the  court.  The  members  of  the  congregation 
are  all  priests,  who,  though  already  masters  of  theology, 
prosecute  their  studies  under  the  Institution  with  the  severest 
discipline.  The  views  of  the  founder  were  admirable,  being 
directed  to  the  continual  and  general  dissemination  of  true 
and  profound  science,  among  the  Catholic  clergy  of  Ger- 
many. His  plans  were  for  the  most  part  successful,  and  are 
yet  in  extensive  operation. 

Being  resident  at  Briinn,  "Wrba  could  devote  more  of  his 
time  to  our  society  than  Paulowich.  He  was  a  second  father 
Battista,  with  the  exception  that  he  was  not  permitted  to 
lend  us  any  books.  We  held  long  discussions,  from  which 
I  reaped  great  advantage,  and  real  consolation.  He  was 
taken  ill  in  1829,  and  being  subsequently  called  to  other 
duties,  he  was  unable  to  visit  us  more.  We  were  much  hurt, 
but  we  obtained  as  his  successor  the  Abate  Ziak,  another 
learned  and  worthy  divine.  Indeed,  among  the  whole  Ger- 
man  ecclesiastics  we  met  with,  not  one  showed  the  least  dis- 
position to  pry  into  our  political  sentiments ;  not  one  but 
was  worthy  of  the  holy  task  he  bad  undertaken,  and  imbued 
at  once  with  the  most  edifying  faith  and  enlarged  wisdom. 

They  were  all  highly  respectable,  and  inspired  us  with 
respect  for  the  general  Catholic  clergy. 


MY  TEN  YEARS'  IMPRISONMENT.  183 

The  Abate  Ziak,  both  by  precept  and  example,  taught  me 
to  support  my  sufferings  with  calmness  and  resignation. 
He  was  afflicted  with  continual  defluxions  in  his  teeth,  his 
throat,  and  his  ears,  and  was,  nevertheless,  always  calm  and 
cheerful. 

Maroncelli  derived  great  benefit  from  exercise  and  open 
air ;  the  eruptions,  by  degrees,  disappeared ;  and  both 
Munari  and  myself  experienced  equal  advantage. 


CHAPTER  XCI. 

IT  was  the  first  of  August,  1830.  Ten  years  had  elapsed 
since  I  was  deprived  of  my  liberty :  for  eight  years  and  a 
half  I  had  been  subjected  to  hard  imprisonment.  It  was 
Sunday,  and,  as  on  other  holidays,  we  went  to  our  accus- 
tomed station,  whence  we  had  a  view  from  the  wall  of  the 
valley  and  the  cemetery  below,  where  Oroboni  and  Villa 
now  reposed.  We  conversed  upon  the  subject,  and  the 
probability  of  our  soon  sharing  their  untroubled  sleep.  We 
had  seated  ourselves  upon  our  accustomed  bench,  and 
watched  the  unhappy  prisoners  as  they  came  forth  and 
passed  to  hear  mass,  which  was  performed  before  our  own. 
They  were  women,  and  were  conducted  into  the  same  little 
chapel  to  which  we'resorted  at  the  second  mass. 

It  is  customary  with  the  Germans  to  sing  hymns  aloud 
during  the  celebration  of  mass.  As  the  Austrian  empire  is 
composed  partly  of  Germans  and  partly  of  Sclavonians,  and 
the  greater  part  of  the  prisoners  at  Spielberg  consist  of  one 
or  other  of  these  people,  the  hymns  are  alternately  sung  in 
the  German  and  the  Sckvonian  languages.  Every  festival, 
two  sermons,  are  preached,  and  the  same  division  observed. 
It  was  truly  delightful  to  us  to  hear  the  singing  of  the 
hymns,  and  the  music  of  the  organ  which  accompanied  it. 
The  voices  of  some  of  these  women  touched  us  to  the  heart. 
Unhappy  ones !  some  of  them  were  very  young ;  whom 


184  MY  TEN  YEARS'  IMPRISONMENT. 

love,  or  jealousy,  or  bad  example,  had  betrayed  into  crime. 
I  often  think  I  can  still  hear  their  fervidly  devotional  hymn 
of  the  sanctus — Heilig  !  heilig  !  heilig  ! — Holy  of  holies ;  and 
the  tears  would  start  into  my  eyes.  At  ten  o'clock  the 
women  used  to  withdraw,  and  we  entered  to  hear  mass. 
There  I  saw  those  of  my  companions  in  misfortune,  who 
listened  to  the  service  from  the  tribune  of  the  organ,  and 
from  whom  we  were  separated  only  by  a  single  grate,  whose 
pale  features  and  emaciated  bodies,  scarcely  capable  of 
dragging  their  irons,  bore  witness  to  their  woes. 

After  mass  we  were  conveyed  back  to  our  dungeons. 
About  a  quarter  of  an  hour  afterwards  we  partook  of  dinner. 
We  were  preparing  our  table,  which  consisted  in  putting  a 
thin  board  upon  a  wooden  target,  and  taking  up  our  wooden 
spoons,  when  Signer  Wagrath,  the  superintendent,  entered 
our  prison.  "  I  am  sorry  to  disturb  you  at  dinner ;  but  have 
the  goodness  to  follow  me  ;  the  Director  of  Police  is  waiting 
for  us. "  As  he  was  accustomed  to  come  near  us  only  for 
purposes  of  examination  and  search,  we  accompanied  the 
superintendent  to  the  audience  room  in  no  very  good  humour. 
There  we  found  the  Director  of  Police  and  the  superin- 
tendent, the  first  of  whom  moved  to  us  with  rather  more 
politeness  than  usual.  He  took  out  a  letter,  and  stated  in  a 
hesitating,  slow  tone  of  voice,  as  if  afraid  of  surprising  us 
too  greatly :  "  Gentlemen,  ....  I  have  ....  the  pleasure 
....  the  honour,  I  mean.  .  ...  of  ..  of  acquainting  you 
that  his  Majesty  the  Emperor  has  granted  you  a  further 
favour."  Still  he  hesitated  to  inform  us  what  this  favour 
was ;  and  we  conjectured  it  must  be  some  slight  alleviation, 
some  exemption  from  irksome  labour, — to  have  a  book,  or, 
perhaps,  less  disagreeable  diet.  "Don't  you  understand P " 
he  inquired.  "  No,  sir  !  "  was  our  reply ;  "  have  the  good- 
ness, if  permitted,  to  explain  yourself  more  fully." 

"  Then  hear  it !  it  is  liberty  for  your  two  selves,  and  a 
third,  who  will  shortly  bear  you  company." 


MY  TEN  YEARS'  IMPRISONMENT.  185 

One  would  imagine  that  such  an  announcement  would 
have  thrown  us  into  ecstasies  of  joy.  We  were  so  soon  to 
see  our  parents,  of  whom  we  had  not  heard  for  so  long  a 
period  ;  hut  the  doubt  that  they  were  no  longer  in  existence, 
was  sufficient  not  only  to  moderate — it  did  not  permit  us  to 
hail,  the  joys  of  liberty  as  we  should  have  done. 

"Are  you  dumb  ?  "  asked  the  director  ;  "  I  thought  to  see 
you  exulting  at  the  news." 

"  May  I  beg  you,"  replied  I,  "  to  make  known  to  the 
Emperor  our  sentiments  of  gratitude  ;  but  if  we  are  not 
favoured  with  some  account  of  our  families,  it  is  impossible 
not  to  indulge  in  the  greatest  fear  and  anxiety.  It  is  this 
consciousness  which  destroys  the  zest  of  all  our  joy." 

He  then  gave  Maroncelli  a  letter  from  his  brother,  which 
greatly  consoled  him.  But  he  told  me  there  was  no  account 
of  my  family,  which  made  me  the  more  fear  that  some 
calamity  had  befallen  them. 

"  Now,  retire  to  your  apartments,  and  I  will  send  you  a 
third  companion,  who  has  received  pardon." 

We, went,  and  awaited  his  arrival  anxiously ;  wishing  that 
all  had  alike  been  admitted  to  the  same  act  of  grace,  instead 
of  that  single  one.  Was  it  poor  old  Munari  ?  was  it  such,  or 
such  a  one  ?  Thus  we  went  on  guessing  at  every  one  we 
knew ;  when  suddenly  the  door  opened,  and  Signor  Andrea 
Torrelli,  of  Brescia,  made  his  appearance.  We  embraced 
him  ;  and  we  could  eat  no  more  dinner  that  day.  We  con- 
versed till  towards  evening,  chiefly  regretting  the  lot  of  the 
unhappy  friends  whom  we  were  leaving  behind  us. 

After  sunset,  the  Director  of  Police  returned  to  escort  us 
from  our  wretched  prison  house.  Our  hearts,  however,  bled 
within  us,  as  we  were  passing  by  the  dungeons  of  so  many  of 
our  countrymen  whom  we  loved,  and  yet,  alas,  not  to  have 
them  to  share  our  liberty  !  Heaven  knows  how  long  they 
would  be  left  to  linger  here !  to  become  the  gradual,  but 
certain,  prey  of  death. 


186  MY   TEN   YEABS'   IMPRISONMENT. 

We  were  each  of  us  enveloped  in  a  military  great-coat, 
with  a  cap  ;  and  then,  dressed  as  we  were  in  our  jail  costume, 
but  freed  from  our  chains,  we  descended  the  funereal  mount, 
and  were  conducted  through  the  city  into  the  police  prisons. 

It  was  a  beautiful  moonlight  night.  The  roads,  the 
houses,  the  people  whom  we  met — every  object  appeared  so 
strange,  and  yet  so  delightful,  after  the  many  years  during 
which  I  had  been  debarred  from  beholding  any  similar 
spectacle !  

CHAPTER  XCH. 

WE  remained  at  the  police  prisons,  awaiting  the  arrival  of 
the  imperial  commissioner  from  Vienna,  who  was  to  accom- 
pany us  to  the  confines  of  Italy.  Meantime,  we  were  en- 
gaged in  providing  ourselves  with  linen  and  trunks,  our  own 
having  all  been  sold,  and  defraying  our  prison  expenses. 

Five  days  afterwards,  the  commissary  was  announced,  and 

,  the  director  consigned  us  over  to  him,  delivering,  at  the  same 

time,  the  money  which  we  had  brought  with  us  to  Spielberg, 

and  the  amount  derived  from  the  sale  of  our  trunks  and  books, 

both  which  were  restored  to  us  on  reaching  our  destination. 

The  expense  of  our  journey  was  defrayed  by  the  Emperor, 
and  in  a  liberal  manner.  The  commissary  was  Heir  Von 
Noe,  a  gentleman  employed  in  the  office  of  the  minister  of 
police.  The  charge  could  not  have  been  intrusted  to  a  person 
every  way  more  competent,  as  well  from  education  as 
from  habit ;  and  he  treated  us  with  the  greatest  respect. 

I  left  Briinn, 'labouring  under  extreme  difficulty  of  breath- 
ing ;  and  the  motion  of  the  carriage  increased  it  to  such  a 
degree,  that  it  was  expected  I  should  hardly  survive  during 
the  evening.  I  was  in  a  high  fever  the  whole  of  the  night; 
and  the  commissary  was  doubtful  whether  I  should  be  able 
to  continue  my  journey  even  as  far  as  Vienna.  I  begged 
to  go  on ;  and  we  did  so,  but  my  sufferings  were  excessive. 
I  could  neither  eat.  drink,  nor  sleep. 


MY  TEN  YEARS'  IMPBISONMENT.  187 

I  reached  Vienna  more  dead  than  alive.  We  were  well 
accommodated  at  the  general  directory  of  police.  I  was  placed 
in  bed,  a  physician  called  in,  and  after  being  bled,  I  found 
myself  sensibly  relieved.  By  means  of  strict  diet,  and  the 
use  of  digitalis,  I  recovered  in  about  eight  days.  My  phy- 
sician's name  was  Singer ;  and  he  devoted  the  most  friendly 
attentions  to  me. 

I  had  become  extremely  anxious  to  set  out ;  the  more  so 
from  an  account  of  the  three  days  having  arrived  from  Paris. 
The  Emperor  had  fixed  the  day  of  our  liberation  exactly  on 
that  when  the  revolution  burst  forth ;  and  surely  he  would 
not  now  revoke  it.  Yet  the  thing  was  not  improbable ;  a 
critical  period  appeared  to  be  at  hand,  popular  commotions 
were  apprehended  in  Italy,  and  though  we  could  not  imagine 
we  should  be  remanded  to  Spielberg,  should  we  be  permitted 
to  return  to  our  native  country? 

I  affected  to  be  stronger  than  I  really  was,  and  entreated 
we  might  be  allowed  to  resume  our  journey.  It  was  my 
wish,  meantime,  to  be  presented  to  his  Excellency  the  Count 
Pralormo,  envoy  from  Turin  to  the  Austrian  Court,  to  whom 
I  was  aware  how  much  I  had  been  indebted.  He  had  left 
no  means  untried  to  procure  my  liberation ;  but  the  rule 
that  we  were  to  hold  no  communication  with  any  one  ad- 
mitted of  no  exception.  When  sufficiently  convalescent,  a 
carnage  was  politely  ordered  for  me,  in  which  I  might  take 
an  airing  in  the  city ;  but  accompanied  by  the  commissary, 
and  no  other  company.  We  went  to  see  the  noble  church 
of  St.  Stephen,  the  delightful  walks  in  the  environs,  the 
neighbouring  Villa  Lichtenstein,  and  lastly  the  imperial 
residence  of  Schoenbrunn. 

While  proceeding  through  the  magnificent  walks  in  the 
gardens,  the  Emperor  approached,  and  the  commissary  hastily 
made  us  retire,  lest  the  sight  of  our  emaciated  persons- 
should  give  him  pain. 


188  MY  TEN  TEARS'  IMPRISONMENT. 


CHAPTER  XCIIL 

WE  at  length  took  our  departure  from  Vienna,  and  I  was 
enabled  to  reach  Bruck.  There  my  asthma  returned  with 
redoubled  violence.  A  physician  was  called — Herr  Jiid- 
mann,  a  man  of  pleasing  manners.  He  hied  me,  ordered 
me  to  keep  my  bed,  and  to  continue  the  digitalis.  At 
the  end  of  two  days  I  renewed  my  solicitations  to  con- 
tinue our  jsurney. 

We  proceeded  through  Austria  and  Stiria,  and  entered 
Carinthia  without  any  accident ;  but  on  our  arrival  at 
the  village  of  FeUkirchen,  a  little  way  from  Klagcnfurt, 
we  were  overtaken  by  a  counter  order  from  Vienna.  We 
were  to  stop  till  we  received  farther  directions.  I  leave 
the  reader  to  imagine  what  our  feelings  must  have  been 
on  this  occasion.  I  had,  moreover,  the  pain  to  reflect, 
that  it  would  be  owing  to  my  illness  if  my  two  friends 
should  now  bo  prevented  from  reaching  their  native  land. 
We  remained  five  days  at  Feldkirchen,  where  the  commis- 
sary did  all  in  his  power  to  keep  up  our  spirits.  He  took 
us  to  the  theatre  to  see  a  comedy,  and  permitted  us  one  day 
to  enjoy  the  chase.  Our  host  and  several  young  men  of  the 
country,  along  with  the  proprietor  of  a  fine  forest,  were  the 
hunters,  and  we  were  brought  into  a  station  favourable  for 
commanding  a  view  of  the  sports. 

At  length  there  arrived  a  courier  from  Vienna,  with  a 
fresh  order  for  the  commissary  to  resume  his  journey  with 
us  to  the  place  first  appointed.  We  congratulated  each 
other,  but  my  anxiety  was  still  great,  as  I  approached  the 
hour  when  my  hopes  or  fears  respecting  my  family  would 
be  verified.  How  many  of  my  relatives  and  friends  might 
have  disappeared  during  my  ten  years'  absence  ! 

The  entrance  into  Italy  on  that  side  is  not  pleasing  to 
the  eye ;  you  descend  from  the  noble  mountains  of  Germany 
into  the  Italian  plains,  through  a  long  and  sterile  district, 


MY  TEN  YEARS'  IMPRISONMENT.  189 

insomuch  that  travellers  who  have  formed  a  magnificent  idea 
of  our  country,  begin  to  laugh,  and  imagine  they  have  been 
purposely  deluded  with  previous  accounts  of  La  Bella 
Italia. 

The  dismal  view  of  that  rude  district  served  to  make  me 
more  sorrowful.  To  see  my  native  sky,  to  meet  human 
features  no  more  belonging  to  the  north,  to  hear  my  native 
tongue  from  every  lip  affected  me  exceedingly ;  and  I  folt 
more  inclined  to  tears  than  to  exultation.  I  threw  myself 
back  in  the  carriage,  pretending  to  sleep  ;  but  covered  my 
face  and  wept.  That  night  I  scarcely  closed  my  eyes :  my 
fever  was  high,  my  whole  soul  seemed  absorbed  in  offering 
up  vows  for  my  sweet  Italy,  and  grateful  prayers  to  Provi- 
dence for  having  restored  to  her  her  captive  son.  Then  I 
thought  of  my  speedy  separation  from  a  companion  with 
whom  I  had  so  long  suffered,  and  who  had  given  me  so 
many  proofs  of  more  than  fraternal  affection,  and  I  tor- 
tured my  imagination  with  the  idea  of  a  thousand  disas- 
ters which  might  have  befallen  my  family.  Not  even  so 
many  years  of  captivity  had  deadened  the  energy  and  sus- 
ceptibility of  my  feelings  !  but  it  was  a  susceptibility  only  to 
pain  and  sorrow. 

I  felt,  too,  on  my  return,  a  strange  desire  to  visit  Udine, 
and  the  lodging-house,  where  our  two  generous  friends  had 
assumed  the  character  of  waiters,  and  secretly  stretched  out 
to  us  the  hand  of  friendship.  But  we  passed  that  town  to 
our  left,  and  passed  on  our  way. 


CHAPTER  XCIV. 

PORDENONE,  Conegliano,  Ospedaletto,  Vicenza,  Verona,  and 
Mantua,  were  all  places  which  interested  my  feelings.  In 
the  first  resided  one  of  my  friends,  an  excellent  young  man, 
who  had  survived  the  campaigns  of  Russia;  Conegliano 
was  the  district  whither,  I  was  told  by  the  under-jailors, 


190  MY  TEN  YEABS'   IMPKISONMENT. 

poor  Angiola  had  been  conducted ;  and  in  Ospedaletto  there 
had  married  and  resided  a  young  lady,  jvho  had  more  of 
the  angel  than  the  woman,  and  who,  though  now  no  more, 
I  had  every  reason  to  remember  with  the  highest  respect. 
The  whole  of  these  places,  in  short,  revived  recollections 
more  or  less  dear ;  and  Mantua  more  than  any  other  city. 
It  appeared  only  yesterday  that  I  had  come  with  Lodovico 
in  1815,  and  paid  another  visit  with  Count  Porro  in  1820. 
The  same  roads,  the  same  squares,. the  same  palaces,  and  yet 
such  a  change  in  all  social  relations  !  So  many  of  my  con- 
nections snatched  away  for  ever — so  many  exiled — one 
generation,  I  had  beheld  when  infants,  started  up  into 
manhood.  Yet  how  painful  not  to  he  allowed  to  call  at  a 
single  house,  or  to  accost  a  single  person  we  met. 

To  complete  my  misery,  Mantua  was  the  point  of  separa- 
tion between  Maroncelli  and  myself.  We  passed  the  night 
there,  both  filled  with  forebodings  and  regret.  I  felt 
agitated  like  a  man  on  the  eve  of  receiving  his  sentence. 

The  next  morning  I  rose,  and  washed  my  face,  in  order 
to  conceal  from  my  friend  how  much  I  had  given  way  to 
grief  during  the  preceding  night.  I  looked  at  myself  in  the 
glass,  and  tried  to  assume  a  quiet  and  even  cheerful  air.  I 
then  bent  down  in  prayer,  though  ill  able  to  command  my 
thoughts ;  and  hearing  Maroncelli  already  upon  his  crutches, 
and  speaking  to  the  servant,  I  hastened  to  embrace  him. 
We  had  both  prepared  ourselves,  with  previous  exertions, 
for  this  closing  interview,  and  we  spoke  to  each  other  firmly, 
as  well  as  affectionately.  The  officer  appointed  to  conduct 
us  to  the  borders  of  Romagna  appeared ;  it  was  time  to  set 
out ;  we  hardly  knew  how  to  speak  another  word ;  we 
grasped  each  other's  hands  again  and  again, — we  parted ;  he 
mounted  into  his  vehicle,  and  I  felt  as  if  I  had  been 
annihilated  at  a  blow.  I  returned  into  my  chamber,  threw 
myself  upon  my  knees,  and  prayed  for  my  poor  mutilated 
friend,  thus  separated  from  me,  with  sighs  and  tears. 


MY  TEN  YEARS'  IMPRISONMENT.  191 

I  had  known  several  celebrated  men,  but  not  one  more 
affectionately  sociable  than  Maroncelli ;  not  one  better 
educated  in  all  respects,  more  free  from  sudden  passion  or 
ill-humour,  more  deeply  sensible  that  virtue  consists  in 
continued  exercises  of  tolerance,  of  generosity,  and  good 
sense.  Heaven  bless  you,  my  dear  companion  in  so  many 
afflictions,  and  send  you  new  friends  who  may  equal  me  in 
my  affection  for  you,  and  surpass  me  in  true  goodness. 


CHAPTER  XCV. 

I  SBT  out  the  same  evening,  for  Brescia.  There  I  took  leave 
of  my  other  fellow-prisoner,  Andrea  Torrelli.  The  unhappy 
man  had  just  heard  that  he  had  lost  his  mother,  and  the 
bitterness  of  his  grief  wrung  my  heart;  yet,  agonised  as 
were  my  feelings  from  so  many  different  causes,  I  could  not 
help  laughing  at  the  following  incident. 

Upon  the  table  of  our  lodging-house  I  found  the  following 
theatrical  announcement : — Fraiicesca  da  Rimini;  Opera  da 
Mmica,  &c.  "  Whose  work  is  this  ? "  I  inquired  of  the 
waiter. 

"  Who  versified  it,  and  composed  the  music,  I  cannot  tell, 
but  it  is  the  Francesco,  da  Rimini  which  everybody  knows." 

"  Everybody  !  you  must  be  wrong  there.  I  come  from 
Germany,  yet  what  do  I  know  of  your  Francescas?  "  The 
waiter  was  a  young  man  with  rather  a  satirical  cast  of 
face,  quite  Erescian;  and  he  looked  at  me  with  a  con- 
temptuous sort  of  pity.  "  What  should  you  know,  indeed, 
of  our  Francescas  ?  why,  no,  sir,  it  is  only  one  we  speak  of 
— Francesca  da  Rimini,  to  be  sure,  sir;  I  mean  the  tragedy 
of  Signer  Silvio  Pellico.  They  have  here  turned  it  into  an 
opera,  spoiling  it  a  little,  no  doubt,  but  still  it  is  always 
Pellico." 

.  "  Ah,  Silvio  Pellico  !  I  think  I  have  heard  his  name.  Is 
it  not  that  same  evil-minded  conspirator  who  was  condemned 


192  MY  TEN  YEARS'  IMPRISONMENT. 

to  death,  and  his  sentence  was  changed  to  hard  imprison- 
ment, some  eight  or  ten  years  ago  ?  " 

I  should  never  have  hazarded  such  a  jest.  He  looked 
round  him,  fixed  his  eyes  on  me,  showed  a  fine  set  oi  teeth, 
with  no  amiable  intention ;  and  I  believe  he  would  have 
knocked  me  down,  had  he  not  heard  a  noise  close  by  us. 

He  went  away  muttering  :  "  Ill-minded  conspirator, 
indeed  ! "  But  before  I  left,  he  had  found  me  out.  He 
was  half  out  of  his  wits :  he  could  neither  question,  nor 
answer,  nor  write,  nor  walk,  nor  wait.  He  had  his  eyes 
continually  upon  me,  he  rubbed  his  hands,  and  addressing 
himself  to  every  one  near  him ;  "  Sior  si,  Sior  si ;  Yes,  sir ! 
Yes,  sir  ! "  he  kept  stammering  out,  "  coming  !  coming  ! " 

Two  days  afterwards,  on  the  9th  of  September,  I  arrived 
with  the  commissary  at  Milan.  On  approaching  the  city, 
on  seeing  the  cupola  of  the  cathedral,  in  repassing  the 
walk  by  Loretto,  so  well  known,  and  so  dear,  on  recog- 
nising the  corso,  the  buildings,  churches,  and  public  places 
of  every  kind,  what  were  my  mingled  feelings  of  pleasure 
and  regret !  I  felt  an  intense  desire  to  stop,  and  embrace 
once  more  my  beloved  friends.  I  reflected  with  bitter 
grief  on  those,  whom,  instead  of  meeting  here,  I  had  left 
in  the  horrible  abode  of  Spielberg, — on  those  who  were 
wandering  in  strange  lands, — on  those  who  were  no  more. 
I  theught,  to»,  with  gratitude  upon  the  affection  shown  m« 
by  the  people ;  their  indignation  against  all  those  who  had 
calumniated  mo,  while  they  had  uniformly  been  the  objects 
of  my  benevolence  and  esteem. 

We  went  to  take  up  our  quarters  at  the  Bella  Venezia* 
It  was  here  I  had  so  often  been  present  at  our  social 
meetings ;  here  I  had  called  upon  so  many  distinguished 
foreigners ;  here  a  respectable,  elderly  Signora  invited  me 
in  vain  to  follow  her  into  Tuscany,  foreseeing,  she  said,  the 
misfortunes  that  would  befall  me  if  I  remained  at  Milan. 
What  affecting  recollections !  How  rapidly  past  times 


MT  TEN  TEAKS'  IMPRISONMENT.  193 

came  thronging  over  my  memory,  fraught  with  joy  and 
grief! 

The  waiters  at  the  hotel  soon  discovered  who  I  was. 
The  report  spread,  and  towards  evening  a  number  of 
persons  stopped  in  the  square,  and  looked  up  at  the  win- 
dows. One,  whose  name  I  did  not  know,  appeared  to 
recognise  me,  and  raising  both  his  arms,  made  a  sign  of 
embracing  me,  as  a  welcome  back  to  Italy. 

And  where  were  the  sons  of  Porro  ;  I  may  say  my  own 
sons  ?  Why  did  I  not  see  them  there  ? 


CHAPTER  XCVI. 

THE  commissary  conducted  me  to  the  police,  in  order  to 
present  me  to  the  director.  What  were  my  sensations  upon 
recognising  the  house  !  it  was  my  first  prison.  It  was  thru 
I  thought  with  pain  of  Melchiorre  Gioja,  on  the  rapid 
steps  with  which  I  had  Been  him  pacing  within  those 
naiTOw  walls,  or  sitting  at  his  little  table,  recording  his 
noble  thoughts,  or  making  signals  to  me ;  and  his  last  look 
of  sorrow,  when  forbidden  longer  to  communicate  with  me. 
I  pictured  to  myself  his  solitary  grave,  unknown  to  all  who 
had  so  ardently  loved  him,  and,  while  invoking  peace  to 
his  gentle  spirit,  I  wept. 

Here,  too,  I  called  to  mind  the  little  dumb  boy,  the 
pathetic  tones  of  Maddalene,  my  strange  emotions  of 
compassion  for  her,  my  neighbours  the  robb'ers,  the  assumed 
Louis  XVII.,  and  the  poor  prisoner  who  had  carried  the 
fatal  letter,  and  whose  cries  under  the  infliction  of  the 
bastinado,  had  reached  me. 

These  and  other  recollections  appeared  with  all  the 
vividness  of  some  horrible  dream ;  but  most  of  all,  I  felt 
those  two  visits  which  my  father  had  made  me  ten  years 
before,  when  I  last  saw  him.  How  the  good  old  man  had 
deceived  himself  in  the  expectation  that  I  should  so  soon 
G 


194  MY  TEX  YEARS'  IMPRISOJOIEXT. 

rejoin  him  at  Turin  !  Could  he  then  have  Lome  the  idea 
<>f  a  son's  ten  years'  captivity,  arid  in  such  a  prison?  But 
when  those  nattering  hopes  vanished,  did  he,  and  did  my 
mother  bear  up  against  so  unexpected  a  calamity  ?  was  I 
ever  to  see  them  again  in  this  world  ?  Had  one,  or  which 
of  them,  died  during  the  cruel  interval  that  ensued  ? 

Such  was  the  suspense,  the  distracting  doubt  which  yet 
clung  to  me.  I  was  about  to  knock  at  the  door  of  my 
home  without  knowing  if  the}"  were  in  existence,  or  what 
other  members  of  my  beloved  family  were  left  me: 

The  director  of  police  received  me  in  a  friendly  manner. 
He  permitted  me  to  stay  at  the  £ella  Yenezia  with  the 
imperial  commissary,  though  I  was  not  permitted  to  com- 
municate with  any  one,  and  for  this  reason  I  determined 
to  resume  my  journey  the  following  morning.  I 
obtained  an  interview,  however,  with  the  Piedmonteae 
consul,  to  learn  if  possible  some  account  of  my  relatives. 
I  should  have  waited  on  him,  but  being  attacked  with 
fever,  and  compelled  to  keep  my  bed,  I  sent  to  beg  the 
favour  of  his  visiting  me.  He  had  the  kindness  to  come 
immediately,  and  I  felt  truly  grateful  to  him. 

He  gave  me  a  favourable  account  of  my  father,  and  of 
my  eldest  brother.  Respecting  my  mother,  however,  my 
other  brother,  and  my  two  sisters,  I  could  learn  nothing. 

Thus  in  part  comforted,  I  could  have  wished  to  prolong 
the  conversation  with  the  consul,  and  he  would  willingly 
have  gratified  me  had  not  his  duties  called  him  away. 
After  he  left  me,  I  was  extremely  affected,  but,  as  had 
so  often  happened,  no  tears  came  to  give  me  relief.  The 
habit  of  long,  internal  grief,  seemed  yet  to  prey  upon  my 
i "virt;  to  weep  would  have  alleviated  the  fever  which  con- 
Mimed  me,  and  distracted  my  head  with  pain. 

1  called  to  Stundberger  for  something  to  drink.  That 
good  man  was  a  sergeant  of  police  at  Vienna,  though  now 
filling  (lie  office  of  vaht-dc-chambre  to  the  commissary. 


MY   TEN   TEARS     IMPRISONMENT.  19-J 

But  though  not  old,  I  perceived  that  his  hand  trembled  in 
giving  me  the  drink.  This  circumstance  reminded  me  of 
Schiller,  my  beloved  Schiller,  when,  on  the  day  of  my 
arrival  at  Spielberg,  1  ordered  him,  in  an  imperious)  tone, 
to  hand  me  the  jug  of  water,  and  he  obeyed  me. 

How  strange  it  was !  The  recollection  of  this,  added,  to 
other  feelings  of  the  kind,  struck,  as  it  were,  the  rock  of 
my  heart,  and  tears  began  to  flow. 


CHAPTER  XCVII. 

THE  morning  of  the  10th  of  September,  I  took  leave  of  the 
excellent  commissary,  and  set  out.  We  had  only  been 
acquainted  with  each  other  for  about  a  month,  and  yet  he 
was  as  friendly  as  if  he  had  known  me  for  years.  His  noble 
and  upright  mind  was  above  all  artifice,  or  desire  of  pene- 
trating the  opinions  of  others,  not  from  any  want  of  intelli- 
gence, but  a  love  of  that  dignified  simplicity  which  animates 
all  honest  men. 

It  sometimes  happened  during  our  journey  that  I  was 
accosted  by  some  one  or  other  when  unobserved,  in  places 
where  we  stopped.  "Take  care  of  that  angel  keeper  of 
yours ;  if  he  did  not  belong  to  those  neri  (blacks),  they 
would  not  havejmt  him  over  you." 

"There  you  are  deceived,"  said  I;  "I  have  the  greatest 
reason  to  believe  that  you  are  deceived." 

"The  most  cunning,"  was  the  reply,  "can  always  con- 
trive to  appear  the  most  simple." 

"  If  it  were  so,  we  ought  never  to  give  credit  to  the  least 
goodness  in  any  one." 

"Yes,  there  are  certain  social  stations,"  he  replied,  "in 
which  men's  manners  may  appear  to  great  advantage  by 
means  of  education ;  but  aa  to  virtue,  they  have  none  of  it." 

I  could  only  answer,  "You  exaggerate,  sir,  you  exag- 


196  MY  TEN  YEARS'  IMPRISONMENT. 

"  I  am  only  consistent,"  he  insisted.  We  were  here 
interrupted,  and  I  called  to  mind  the  cave  a  comequentiarii* 
of  Leibnitz. 

Too  many  are  inclined  to  adopt  this  false  and  terrible 
doctrine.  I  follow  the  standard  A,  that  is  JUSTICE.  Another 
follows  standard  B  ;  it  must  therefore  be  that  of  INJUSTICE, 
and,  consequently,  he  must  be  a  villain ! 

Give  me  none  of  your  logical  madness ;  whatever  standard 
you  adopt,  do  not  reason  so  inhumanly.  Consider,  that  by 
assuming  what  data  you  please,  and  proceeding  with  the 
most  violent  stretch  of  rigour  from  one  consequence  to 
another,  it  is  easy  for  any  one  to  come  to  the  conclusion 
that,  "  Beyond  we  four,  all  the  rest  of  the  world  deserve  to 
be  burnt  alive. "  And  if  we  are  at  the  pains  of  investigating 
a  little  further,  we  shall  find  each  of  the  four  crying  out, 
"  All  deserve  to  be  burnt  alive  together,  with  the  exception 
of  I  myself." 

This  vulgar  tenet  of  exclusiveness  is  in  the  highest  degree 
unphilosophical.  A  moderate  degree  of  suspicion  is  wise, 
but  when  urged  to  the  extreme,  it  is  the  opposite. 

After  the  hint  thus  thrown  out  to  me  respecting  that 
angelo  custode,  I  turned  to  study  him  with  greater  attention 
than  I  had  before  done ;  and  each  day  served  to  convince 
me  more  and  more  of  his  friendly  and  generous  nature. 

When  an  order  of  society,  more  or  less  perfect,  has  been 
established,  whether  for  better  or  worse,  all  the  social  offices, 
not  pronounced  by  general  consent  to  be  infamous,  all  that 
are  adapted  to  promote  the  public  good,  and  the  confidence 
of  a  respectable  number,  and  which  are  filled  by  men 
acknowledged  to  be  of  upright  mind,  such  offices  may 
undeniably  be  undertaken  by  honest  men  without  incurring 
any  charge  of  unconscientiousness. 

I  have  read  of  a  Quaker  who  had  a  great  horror  of 
soldiers.  He  one  day  saw  a  soldier  throw  himself  into  the 
Thames,  and  save  the  life  of  a  fellow-being  who  was 


MT  TEN  YEARS'  IMPRISONMENT.  97 

drowning.  "  I  don't  care,"  he  exclaimed,  "  I  -will  still  be 
a  Quaker,  but  there  are  some  good  fellows,  even  among 
soldiers."  

CHAPTER  XCVIIL 

STTNDBERGER  accompanied  me  to  my  vehicle,  into  which  I 
got  with  the  brigadier  of  gens  d'armes,  to  whose  care  I  was 
entrusted.  It  was  snowing,  and  the  cold  was  excessive. 

"Wrap  yourself  well  up  in  your  cloak,"  said  Stund- 
berger;  "cover  your  head  better,  and  contrive  to  reach 
home  as  little  unwell  as  you  can ;  remember,  that  a  very 
little  thing  will  give  you  cold  just  now.  I  wish  it  had  been 
in  my  power  to  go  on  and  attend  yon  as  far  as  Turin."  He 
said  this  in  a  tone  of  voice  so  truly  cordial  and  affectionate 
that  I  could  not  doubt  its  sincerity. 

"  From  this  time  you  will  have  no  German  near  you," 
he  added  ;  "  you  will  no  longer  hear  our  language  spoken, 
and  little,  I  dare  say,  will  you  care  for  that ;  the  Italians 
find  it  very  harsh.  Besides,  you  have  suffered  so  greatly 
among  us,  that  most  probably  you  will  not  like  to  re- 
member us;  yet,  though  you  will  so  soon  forget  my  very  name, 
I  shall  not  cease,  sir,  to  offer  up  prayers  for  your  safety." 

"  I  shall  do  the  same  for  you,"  I  replied ;  as  I  shook  his 
hand  for  the  last  time. 

"  Guten  morgen  !  guten  morgen  !  gute  reise !  leben  sie 
wohl !  " — farewell ;  a  pleasant  journey !  good  morning ! — 
he  continued  to  repeat;  and  the  sounds  were  to  me  as 
sweet  as  if  they  had  been  pronounced  in  my  native  tongue. 

I  am  passionately  attached  to  my  country,  but  I  do  not 
dislike  any  other  nation.  Civilisation,  wealth,  power, 
glory,  are  differently  apportioned  among  different  people ; 
but  in  all  there  are  minds  obedient  to  the  great  vocation  of 
man, — to  love,  to  pity,  and  to  assist  each  other. 

The  brigadier  who  attended  me,  informed  me  that  he  was 
one  of  those  who  arrested  Confalonieri.  He  told  me  how 


198  MY  TEX  YEARS'  IMPRISONMENT. 

the  unhappy  man  had  tried  to  make  his  escape  ;  how  he  had 
heen  baffled,  and  how  he  had  been  torn  from  the  arms  of  his 
distracted  wife,  while  they  both  at  the  same  time  submitted 
to  the  calamity  with  dignity  and  resignation. 

The  horrible  narrative  increased  my  fear ;  a  hand  of 
iron  seemed  to  be  weighing  upon  my  heart.  The  good  man, 
in  his  desire  of  showing  his  sociality,  and  entertaining  me 
with  his  remarks,  was  not  aware  of  the  horror  he  excited 
in  me  when  I  cast  my  eye  on  those  bands  which  had 
seized  the  person  of  my  unfortunate  friend. 

He  ordered  luncheon  at  BufEalora,  but  I  was  unable  to 
taste  anything.  Many  years  back,  when  I  was  spending 
my  time  at  Arluno,  with  the  sons  of  Count  Porro,  I  was 
accustomed  to  walk  thither  (to  Buffalora),  along  the  banks 
of  the  Ticino.  I  was  rejoiced  to  see  the  noble  bridge,  the 
materials  of  which  I  had  beheld  scattered  alpng  the 
Lombard  shore,  now  finished,  notwithstanding  the  general 
opinion  that  the  design  would  be  abandoned.  I  rejoiced  to 
traverse  the  river  and  set  my  foot  once  more  on  Piedmont*  so 
ground.  With  all  my  attachment  to  other  nations,  how 
much  I  prefer  Italy !  yet  Heaven  knows  that  however  much 
more  delightful  to  me  is  the  sound  of  the  Italian  name,  still 
sweeter  must  be  that  of  Piedmont,  the  land  of  my  fathers. 


CHAPTER  XCIX. 

OPPOSITE  to  Buffalora  lies  San  Martino.  Here  the  Lom- 
bard brigadier  spoke  of  the  Piedmontese  carabineers,  saluted 
me,  and  repassed  the  bridge. 

"  Let  us  go  to  Novara !  "  I  said  to  the  Vetturino. 

"  Have  the  goodness  to  stay  a  moment,"  said  a  carabineer. 
I  found  I  was  not  yet  free ;  and  was  much  vexed,  being 
apprehensive  it  would  retard  my  arrival  at  the  long-desired 
home.  After  waiting  about  a  quarter  of  an  hour,  a  gentle- 
man came  forward  and  requested  to  be  allowed  to  accompany 


MY    TEN    YEARS     IMPRISONMENT.  1911 

us  as  far  as  Xovara.  He  had  already  missed  one  oppor- 
tunity ;  there  was  no  other  conveyance  than  mine ;  and  he 
expressed  himself  exceedingly  happy  that  I  permitted  him 
to  avail  himself  of  it. 

This  carabineer  in  disguise  was  very  good-humoured,  and 
kept  me  company  as  far  as  Novara.  Having  reached  that 
city,  and  feigning  we  were  going  to  an  hotel,  he  stopt  at  the 
barracks  of  the  carabineers,  and  I  was  told  there  was  a  bed 
for  me,  and  that  I  must  wait  the  arrival  of  further  orders. 
Concluding  that  I  was  to  set  off  the  next  day,  I  went  to  bed, 
and  after  chatting  some  time  with  my  host,  I  fell  fast 
asleep ;  and  it  was  long  since  I  had  slept  so  profoundly. 

I  awoke  towards  morning,  rose  as  quickly  as  possible,  and 
found  the  hours  hang  heavy  on  my  hands.  I  took  my 
breakfast,  chatted,  walked  about  the  apartment  and  over 
the  lodge.,  cast  my  eye  over  the  host's  books,  and  finally, — 
a  visitor  was  announced.  An  officer  had  come  to  give  me 
tidings  respecting  my  father,  and  inform  me  that  there  was 
a  letter  from  him,  lying  'for  mo  at  Novara.  I  was 
exceedingly  grateful  to  him  for  this  act  of  humane  courtesy. 
After  a  few  hours,  which  tome  appeared  ages,  I  received 
my  father's  letter.  Oh  what  joy  to  behold  that  hand-writing 
once  more!  what  joy  to  learn  that  the  best  of  mothers -\\  as 
spared  tome!  that  my  two  brothers  were  alive,  and  also  my 
eldest  sister.  Alas !  my  young  and  gentle  Marietta,  who  had 
immured  herself  in  the  convent  of  the  Visitazione,  and  of 
whom  I  had  received  so  strange  an  account  while  a  prisoner, 
had  been  dead  upwards  of  nine  months.  It  was  a  consolation 
for  me  to  believe  that  I  owed  my  liberty  to  all  those  who  had 
never  ceased  to  love  and  to  pray  for  me,  and  more  especially 
to  a  beloved  sister  who  had  died  with  every  expression  of  the 
most  edifying  devotion.  May  the  Almighty  reward  her  for 
the  many  sufferings  she  underwent,  and  in  particular  for  all 
the  anxiety  she  experienced  on  my  account. 

Days  passed  on ;  yet  no  permission  forme  to  quit  Novara! 


200  MY   TEN   YEARS'   IMPBISONMEIfT. 

On  the  morning  of  the  16th  of  September,  the  desired  order 
at  length  arrived,  and  all  superintendence  over  me  by  the 
carabineers  ceased.  It  seemed  strange  !  so  many  years  had 
now  elapsed  since  I  had  been  permitted  to  walk  unaccom- 
panied by  guards.  I  recovered  some  money  ;  I  recc-ived 
the  congratulations  of  some  of  my  father's  friends,  and  set 
out  about  three  in  the  afternoon.  The  companions  of  my 
journey  were  a  lady,  a  merchant,  an  engraver,  and  two 
young  painters ;  one  of  whom  was  both  deaf  and  dumb. 
These  last  were  coming  from  Rome ;  asd  I  was  much 
pleased  by  hearing  from  them  that  they  were  acquainted  with 
the  family  of  my  friend  Maroncelli,  for  how  pleasant  a  thing 
it  is  to  be  enabled  to  speak  of  those  we  love,  with  some  one 
not  wholly  indifferent  to  them. 

"We  passed  the  night  at  Vercelli.  The  happy  day,  the 
17th  of  September,  dawned  at  last.  We  pursued  our 
journey ;  and  how  slow  we  appeared  to  travel !  it  was 
evening  before  we  arrived  at  Turin. 

Who  would  attempt  to  describe  the  consolation  I  felt ; 
the  nameless  feelings  of  delight,  when  I  found  myself  in 
the  embraces  of  my  father,  my  mother,  and  my  two 
brothers?  My  dear  sister  Giuseppina  was  not  then  with 
them ;  she  was  fulfilling  her  duties  at  Chieri ;  but  on 
hearing  of  my  felicity,  she  hastened  to  stay  for  a  few  days 
with  our  family,  to  make  it  complete.  Restored  to  these 
five  long-sighed-for,  and  beloved  objects  of  my  tenderness, 
— I  was,  and  I  still  am,  one  of  the  most  enviable  of  mankind. 

Now,  therefore,  for  all  my  past  misfortunes  and  suffer- 
ings, as  well  as  for  all  the  good  or  evil  yet  reserved  for 
me,  may  the  providence  of  God  be  blessed ;  of  God,  who 
renders  all  men,  and  all  things,  however  opposite  the  in- 
tentions of  the  actors,  the  wonderful  instruments  which  He 
directs  to  the  greatest  and  best  of  purposes. 


Date  Due 


A     000  523  368     9 


